Test of Faith (first in series)
by Red O'Toole
Summary: Hannibal Heyes is shot by an outlaw seeking revenge on Kid Curry. With his partner hovering on the brink of death and his gun skills useless, can Kid Curry find the means to save Hannibal Heyes?


Test of Faith

Chapter One

The crackling fire cast a warm glow on the faces of the two young cowboys who were bickering like an old married couple.

"I don't like it, Heyes," the curly-haired blond was saying. "I've got a bad feeling about this place."

"C'mon, Kid, what's not to like?" the dark-haired, dark-eyed man replied. "There's fresh water and plenty of grass for the horses, which, by the way, are too tired to go any further tonight."

"Anybody could be hidin' in these trees."

"Have you seen anybody followin' us?"

"No."

"Y'know, I've said it before, Kid, I like it when you worry, cuz then you take better care of me."

"_How_ can I take care of you when you won't listen to me!" Kid Curry practically shouted at his partner, Hannibal Heyes.

"Well, if you're gonna let the whole countryside know we're here . . . " Heyes retorted, his brown eyes twinkling. He smiled the smile that was like the sunshine peaking out of the clouds on a rainy day, that had been known to melt girls' hearts, and Kid Curry himself was not immune.

"Fine, but we're outta here at first light," he gave in grudgingly.

"Sure, sure," Heyes soothed his ruffled partner. He watched the Kid pour himself a cup of coffee and thought perhaps he shouldn't tease his friend because he really did take excellent care of him, but the trail got long and any amusement to break up the monotony was not to be sneered at.

They sat in silence for several minutes, the Kid still glowering into his cup. The restless stamping and snorting of the horses brought them both instantly alert.

"I better go check on 'em," the Kid stood and threw the dregs of his coffee into the fire.

"Want me to come with you? Could be a cougar."

"Nah, I think I can handle it, probably safer alone the way you shoot." Curry took the edge off his words with a warm smile that crinkled the corners of his blue eyes and Heyes knew his partner's good humor had returned.

Heyes watched him disappear into the shadows of the trees then stood to pour himself another cup of coffee. He looked around the clearing and admitted the Kid had a point - - it really wasn't a defensible spot - - but they had had no trouble for the last couple of weeks. Maybe that was the problem, he mused, our luck has been too good lately. It surely has to run out sometime.

The sharp snap of a twig breaking jerked him back to full alertness. "Kid?" he called knowing it hadn't been his partner; Kid Curry could be as silent as an Indian. He stood, drawing his pistol.

The first shot took him in the right thigh, dropping him to his left knee with a cry of surprised pain. He fired blindly in the direction of the muzzle flash, but knew his chances of hitting the shooter were poor to nonexistent.

The second shot slammed into his right side, knocking him to the ground. He stared, gasping, into the night sky, wondering who was shooting and where was the Kid?

Kid Curry approached the edge of the clearing cautiously, fighting the dread that twisted his guts after hearing the three shots and his partner's cry. It had taken all his self-control to not race recklessly to Heyes' aid, but he knew he would be no help if he fell into the ambush he knew waited for him.

From behind a tree, he peered into the clearing to see three rough-looking men approaching the still body of Heyes. With a shock he recognized the lead man - - Dick Ramsey - - a fast gun and card cheat Curry'd out drawn and humiliated three years previously in Devil's Hole. He had vowed revenge at the time, but as time passed Curry had forgotten and if it did cross his mind he had thought Dick might have already met his not untimely demise.

Now Ramsey stood over Heyes, an ugly leer on his unshaven face. He jerked Heyes up by his shirt front, eliciting a groan of agony from the wounded man.

Curry's finger tightened on his trigger, itching to shoot him down like the dog he was, but the Kid was not a murderer. He waited for the proper moment.

On his knees before the vicious looking stranger, Heyes struggled to maintain consciousness through the pain, hoping to come up with some kind of plan, if not for him to get away, at least to protect the Kid.

"Where's yer partner, Kid Curry?" the stranger growled.

"Who?" Heyes replied innocently.

The back of his captor's hand slammed into his mouth sending his head rocking to the side, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"Don't act dumb! Where's Curry?"

"He took off on his own."

Another back hand and Heyes' grip on consciousness became even more tenuous. When he blinked his eyes back into focus, he was looking into the muzzle of a six-gun, but his tormentor's attention was no longer totally on him.

"Curry!" the stranger shouted. "I know yer out there. If'n y'want yer partner here t'keep breathin', you come out with yer hands up!"

Heyes summoned all his strength and yelled hoarsely, "Don't do it, Kid!"

"Shut up!" A third blow knocked Heyes down to land hard on his wounded side. His offended nerves screamed in agony and a bloody mist blotted out his vision, but he clung to consciousness tooth and nail - - he had to stop the Kid from doing something foolish and getting himself killed.

"Touch my partner again and I'll blow your hand off!" The deadly calm voice of Kid Curry pierced the ringing in Heyes' ears. "Your grudge is with me; he ain't involved."

Heyes struggled to one elbow and focused in the direction of the voice and saw his partner standing just inside the clearing. His stance was relaxed, his feet shoulder width apart, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. Heyes couldn't see his eyes, but he knew from past experience that they were cold as ice. "Kid, don't," he groaned, but he knew the Kid in this mood was totally focused on his opponent to the exclusion of all outside distractions.

"You been practicin', Ramsey? Think you c'n take me this time?" the Kid taunted.

"What makes y'think I ain't gonna just drill ya where ya stand, Curry?" demanded the gunman.

"Yeah, I see that's your style," growled the Kid with a glance at the wounded Heyes. "Y'don't get braggin' rights fer killin' Kid Curry less'n y'outdraw me, Ramsey. There's three of you and one of me - - seems the odds are about right.

Ramsey glanced at his two companions standing tensely nearby, and considered his options. Just killing Kid Curry would satisfy his need for revenge, but being able to say he'd killed him in a showdown would really help his reputation.

"All right, Curry, whenever yer ready."

Watching, Heyes felt the familiar fear he always got seeing the Kid preparing to draw on another man. Was this going to be the one who was just that little bit faster? Would it be today he'd lose his partner and best friend? No matter how prepared he thought he was for the Kid's sudden death - - after all, a gunman's life expectancy wasn't that long - - still just the thought left him feeling empty. It never once crossed his mind that he was the one bleeding to death on the ground.

The face off stretched on for long seconds, then Ramsey grabbed for his gun, but in the blink of an eye the Kid's gun cleared his holster and fired. A look of surprise briefly crossed Ramsey's face as a crimson spot appeared over his heart, then he toppled to the ground, dead.

Kid had immediately turned his gun on the other two, whose hands had barely touched the grips of their pistols before Ramsey was dead, and they froze like rabbits in a spotlight.

"You boys got a bone to pick with me, too?" Kid Curry drawled.

"Nah, Kid, if'n we'd'a knowed it was Kid Curry Dick was gunnin' fer we wouldn'ta come along. Heck, we got nuthin' but respect fer you an' Hannibal Heyes!" the shorter of the two babbled.

"Ain't no love lost 'tween us 'n Ramsey," the other agreed. "He promised us a hunnerd bucks ta back 'im."

"What y'gonna do with us, Kid?" the first asked fearfully.

Kid twirled his gun once before settling it in his holster. "Well, boys, I ain't got nothin' against you neither, 'less one a you shot my partner there."

"Nah, Ramsey done all the shootin'!"

"In that case, I'm gonna trust you boys to get on your horses an' get out of here, but if I catch sight of either of you, I'll kill you. Got it?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Curry!"

"Much obliged, Mr. Curry!"

The two men scurried away and when the Kid heard the sound of hoof beats heading away, he turned his full attention to Heyes, whose face wore a half-smile that warred with the pain that tightened his eyes. His left hand was clamped tightly to the red stain spreading across his white shirt.

"Can't I leave you alone for one minute, Heyes?" the Kid asked in a surprisingly tender voice as he dropped to his knees beside his partner. He eased Heyes to his back and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"That anyone I should know, Kid?" Heyes asked.

"Maybe you should save your strength by not talking."

"Maybe talking will distract me from the pain and my imminent death."

"Your what death?"

"Imminent - - it means something that'll happen soon."

"Shut up, Heyes," Curry growled not wanting to hear anything about dying. "And no, you shouldn't know Dick Ramsey."

"As I remember it, Kid, we've been partners for a bunch of years now, knowing pretty much the same people. How did I miss this Ramsey fellow who had such a hate on for you?"

Kid sighed knowing Heyes' curiosity would eat at him until he knew the whole story so, as he pressed a cloth firmly to each wound causing Heyes to suck in his breath in pain, he explained. "About three years ago you left me in charge at Devil's Hole while you cased the bank for our next job an' Wheat brought in this new recruit, Dick Ramsey. I didn't like the looks of 'im from the start, but I decided to wait for you to get back - - you have a knack for readin' people - - but to keep an eye on 'im in the meantime. One night we were playin' poker an' I caught 'im cheatin'."

"Must've been pretty bad at it if you caught 'im," Heyes grinned.

"Y'gonna let me finish the story, or y'gonna keep makin' smart remarks?"

"Go on, finish."

"I called 'im on the cheatin' an' he had to get ugly, demanded I back up my accusation. So what else could I do? I couldn't back down in front of the boys. He was pretty fast, but not fast enough - - I shot the gun out of his hand, gave the boys back the money they'd lost an' sent 'im out of Devil's Hole with Kyle an' some

of the other boys from the poker game. I heard they hurried 'im along with a flurry of bullets. Anyway, he swore to get me someday."

"And you didn't think you should'a told me all this when I got back?"

"What for? He was gone, nobody was hurt."

"We're partners, Kid, what affects you, affects me."

"I didn't figger t'see 'im again."

"No, we just both get shot from ambush."

"I'm sorry, Heyes, I'd give anythin' if this hadn't happened."

"S'okay, Kid, I didn't mean to scold you."

"I think the bleedin' is stoppin', but hold this cloth here on your side so I can bandage your leg."

With quick, sure movements the Kid ripped a shirt into strips and bound it snugly around the wound in Heyes' thigh. Then he moved Heyes' hand and the bloody cloth from the wound in his side and frowned at the ugly hole. He bent down close and took a surreptitious sniff and was relieved that all he could smell was blood.

"Well, Heyes, your luck is still holdin'."

"Care to explain anythin' lucky about this situation?" The wounded man fixed his partner with a disbelieving glare.

"True, you do have two bullets in you, but the one missed your guts and you ain't coughin' blood so it didn't hit a lung neither. Now if y'don't bleed t'death before I get you to a doctor, well, then, I think you're gonna live."

"Ah! And the nearest doctor is . . . " Heyes prompted.

"Down the pass in Coldwater where we're headed already."

"Half a day of regular ridin'; a full day for sure at the speed I'll be able to ride, if I'll be able to ride at all. Can't you dig 'em out yourself?"

"Uh – uh, Heyes. I could get the one in your leg out, but I ain't gonna dig around in your belly and maybe finish the job the bullet started! Now why don't you shut up before y'talk yourself to death."

To the Kid's surprise, Heyes obeyed him, shutting his eyes tightly against the pain that he had been holding off.

Curry grabbed hold of Dick Ramsey's ankles and dragged the corpse out of the clearing and into the darkness of the woods where he left him to the predators and scavengers of the wild. Ordinarily, the Kid would have dug at least a shallow grave, but, besides not having a shovel, he felt even being eaten by animals was too good for the dead outlaw. "He'll probably give the critters a bellyache," he muttered.

On his way back, he picked up his saddle blanket to use as a pillow under Heyes' head. As he gently laid his partner's head on the blanket, he noticed the wounded man was trembling.

"You okay, Heyes?" he asked in concern.

Heyes opened his chocolate brown eyes which appeared almost black from suffering. "I'm so cold, Kid," his teeth chattered as he spoke.

"Hang on, I'll get you warmed up."

Curry covered his partner with both of their blankets, tucking them snugly around him, then laid his sheepskin jacket on top of it all. Then he tossed more wood on the fire until it blazed brightly.

He squatted beside Heyes and noted the shivering was subsiding and his friend was either asleep, or unconscious.

Kid Curry didn't sleep that night, keeping watch over Heyes and keeping the fire hot.

Dawn found the Kid putting a fresh pot of coffee to boil on the fire, refilling the canteens with fresh water and saddling Heyes' horse. He moved quietly, wanting to give his partner a little more sleep before waking him.

Normally, Heyes was the early riser and usually made the coffee - - badly. Curry shook his head as he poured himself a cup thinking someone as smart as Heyes should have been able to figure out after all these years how to make a decent pot of coffee.

A soft groan and the Kid was at Heyes' side in an instant. "How ya feelin', Heyes?"

"Pretty bad, Kid. That coffee I smell?"

"Yup. Feel like drinkin' a cup? How 'bout some flapjacks?"

"Nah, just coffee, thanks."

Before bringing his partner a cup, Curry dragged his saddle over and gently eased Heyes to a sitting position against it. He fetched the cup of coffee, adding a bit of hoarded sugar from his saddlebags.

He handed Heyes the cup and frowned in concern at the light sheen of perspiration that glistened on his friend's pale face. "You gonna be able to ride, Heyes?"

"Ain't got much choice, do I?" Heyes replied, cupping his chilled hands around the warmth of the metal cup.

"No, I reckon you don't at that."

Heyes took a sip of the brew and darted a look of surprise at his friend. "This is sweet!"

"I put some sugar in it; figgered you could use some."

"Since when did you have sugar?"

The Kid could have laughed at Heyes' comical indignation. "I always try to keep some for special occasions, or emergencies like this."

"I can't believe you've been holdin' out on me!"

"I ain't been holdin' out. It ain't like I been usin' it an' not sharin'! Since when did you get such a sweet tooth anyway?"

Heyes' lips twitched as he tried to prevent a smile, but he couldn't stop himself. "Just kiddin', Kid. Gosh, you're easy t'rile!"

"I reckon if y'got the strength t'pester a body, y'got the strength t'ride!" Kid snapped, but secretly he was relieved. He would really worry when Heyes fell quiet. "Just drink your coffee so we can get outta here!"

Curry put out the fire while Heyes drank his coffee and then helped his partner up to do the morning's necessities.

"Lean against this tree while I get my horse saddled, Heyes, and we'll get on the trail."

The Kid led the black mare to Heyes to save him the walk.

"Need a hand up?"

"I reckon I can still mount on my own, thank you very much."

"Suit yourself."

Heyes reached his gloved hands up to grasp the saddle horn, then had to rest all of his weight on his wounded leg while he put his left foot in the stirrup. A cry escaped him before he could stop himself as excruciating pain took his breath away. He had two choices, let go and never get up again, or continue to pull himself into the saddle. He chose the latter. With all the strength in his trembling arms, he hauled his body up, jarring his wounded side against the saddle and igniting even more pain. He hunched over his horse's neck, his eyes closed as he sucked in gasps of air and waited for the agony to subside.

"And you call me stubborn!" Curry snorted in disgust. "Now look, you're bleedin' again!"

"Can't imagine why, Kid," Heyes managed to put a sarcastic twist to his pained moan. "Forget it. Let's get movin'."

Fortunately, the mountain trail was wide enough to ride side by side and Curry stayed as close as he could to help if necessary. He couldn't imagine what his partner must be feeling and he wasn't at all sure he himself could bear up as well.

They rode slowly, at a steady walk, but every plodding step was a new experience in pain for Heyes. He rode silently for some time, aware of the Kid's frequent worried glances, but unable to reassure him, it was all he could do to stay upright in the saddle.

"Kid?" he broke the silence finally, needing any distraction from his discomfort.

"Yeah?"

"You ever regret goin' for amnesty?"

Puzzled by the question, the Kid directed his keen blue-eyed gaze to his partner whose expression showed that he really wanted a serious answer. He pondered the question a moment before answering, "No, why?"

"I was just thinkin' how we've had more trouble since we started tryin' for amnesty than we ever had as outlaws. Just been wonderin' if it's really worth it."

"Worth it to be free of posses and bounty hunters? Worth it to be able to ride into any town without first checkin' who the sheriff is? Worth it to someday maybe find a nice girl to settle down with and have a pack of kids? Yeah, I reckon it is."

"I didn't know you thought about havin' a wife and kids, Kid," Heyes was surprised by the revelation.

"Ain't no point in talkin' 'bout somethin' that ain't likely to happen, Heyes," the Kid replied matter-of-factly. "But since we been workin' t'wards amnesty, I let the idea in my head a time or two. You ain't?"

"Not really. Maybe once, but I got such a closed in feelin' I almost couldn't breathe."

"That's cuz y'ain't met your match in a woman yet, Heyes. Fact is, we ain't met a woman I'd consider good enough for you."

"Oh, really? Lookin' for a wife for yourself ain't enough, you gotta look for one for me, too?"

"Why not?"

"Well, don't go settin' your standards too high, Kid. How many nice girls wanna marry an ex-outlaw?"

"There's more to you than bein' the best safe cracker and train robber in the West, Heyes."

"Yeah," his partner agreed. "I play pretty good poker, but that don't recommend itself as a way to support a wife an' family, Kid."

"Give yourself credit, Heyes. With your brains you c'n do anythin' y'set 'em to."

"'Preciate the vote of confidence, Kid."

Strength drained for the moment, Heyes lapsed into silence again. Curry called a brief halt and insisted his partner drink some water before they plodded on again, by this time on the downhill side of the pass.

"So just what're y'lookin' for in my wife, Kid?" Heyes asked suddenly.

Taken by surprise, Curry had to take a moment to collect his thoughts. "Well, she's gotta be smart, as smart as you, or more, to keep you on your toes an' keep y'interested. She's gotta be strong too to stand up to you, not just physically, but strong in character. She'll have that fire for livin' that you got, but a peck of common sense to keep you steady."

"You ain't askin' for much, are you?" Heyes managed a lop-sided grin that flashed one of his dimples.

"Y'deserve the best, Heyes," the Kid replied seriously. "But the most important of all is she'll love you with her whole being - - no reservations, or qualms about your past."

Heyes sighed. "Reckon I'll just resign myself to bein' a bachelor 'til I die. I don't reckon there's a girl out there meets your high standards, Kid."

"She's out there," Curry assured him with a bright smile.

From their vantage point coming down the pass, the two outlaws could see the entire valley ahead and the brown ribbon of road that ended in Coldwater. To Curry it seemed the other side of the world as he watched his partner, sunk again into suffering silence, sway unsteadily in his saddle.

"Hold up, Heyes," he said, but had to grab the mare's reins himself to pull her to a stop as his partner didn't respond. He opened his canteen and moved his bay upside the black. He put his hand on the other's shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. "Heyes, drink," he ordered holding the canteen to his partner's lips.

Seeming to mentally shake himself, Heyes blinked and took the canteen, taking a swallow. "More!" Curry commanded and he took several more swallows.

"I think I oughta change those bandages, Heyes."

"Uh-uh, I ain't getting' down, Kid."

"Lemme at least look at 'em," the Kid reined around to the other side and grimaced at the larger bloodstain on Heyes' thigh, mostly dry, but some glistening freshly. He moved Heyes' jacket aside and the story was pretty much the same. "They're both still seepin' blood, Heyes," he commented.

"Didn't expect 'em t'stop, did ya, with all this jarrin'?" growled Heyes.

"Well, it ain't too bad and we're halfway there. Drink some more."

"Tryin' t'drown me now? I'd prefer a whiskey!"

"Yeah, well, ain't no whiskey 'til Coldwater."

"Let's get movin' then!"

They had reached the flat of the valley the first time Heyes slumped forward, dropping his horse's reins. Curry retrieved them and knotted them so they wouldn't fall again even if Heyes couldn't hold them.

"Heyes, wake up!"

Heyes heard his partner's voice from a distance through a fog of pain and misery and his first impulse was to ignore him because anything else took too much effort, but the Kid's second call was more insistent. "What?"

"You need to stay awake, Heyes, or you're gonna fall off."

"Does it matter?" he asked apathetically.

"Don't give up, partner, we're almost there."

Not wanting to disappoint his friend, Heyes took the reins and sat up a little straighter, pushing the dark fog back a ways.

Noon had long passed and the heat of the day beat down on them now that they were out of the protection of the mountains and it sapped the strength of man and beast. Curry spotted the glitter of a creek a ways off the road and turned off to give the horses a drink. Heyes' horse followed without direction from her rider.

As the horses bent their heads to drink their fill, the Kid dismounted to refresh the canteens. It was sheer luck that he looked up just in time to see his partner slump and start to topple from the saddle.

"Whoa, Heyes, where ya goin'?" He leaped to his feet and caught Heyes before he completed his fall and righted him in the saddle. "Heyes?"

There was no response from the wounded outlaw. Curry patted his face gently. "Heyes, wake up. C'mon now, y'gotta stay on your horse. We're real close now." Heyes' eyes flickered but didn't open. Curry reached up and brushed Heyes' forehead with his bare hand and felt it a bit too warm. "Are you startin' t'fever, or is it just cuz it's darn hot today?" he asked not expecting an answer. He unknotted Heyes' blue bandanna and double-checked that his partner was steady in the saddle before squatting down to get the cloth sopping wet. He mopped it over Heyes' face and was rewarded with a groaning sigh. He then reknotted it around the other's neck - - the continued dampness would help cool the sick man.

Next, he gently removed Heyes' jacket, rolling it neatly and tying it, along with his sheepskin jacket, behind his own saddle.

"Seems I can't trust you to stay in your saddle anymore, so I reckon we'll have t'ride double." He tied a lead rope to his bay, moved both canteens to the black, and moving Heyes' feet from the stirrups, mounted up behind his friend.

He wrapped his arms around the other man to take the reins and kicked the horse into motion. The black mare showed her displeasure at the double load by prancing sideways and half-rearing, the jolt of her feet returning to the ground eliciting a groan from Heyes. "Take it easy there, girl, it won't be for long," the Kid soothed while reining her back tightly until she resettled. Then he touched her flanks with his heels and this time she plodded forward obediently. "Stay with me, Heyes," he said softly into the other's ear.

Heyes was vaguely aware of what went on around him, when he could detach himself from the shroud of pain that enveloped him. For hours he had fought off the stupor in which he found himself now, but after awhile he wondered why and allowed himself to fade partly away thus distancing himself from the constant torture of the ride. He heard the Kid's whispered words and wished he could reassure his friend, but he couldn't find the strength of will to rouse himself - - it was too easy to just drift away into the darkness that promised an end to the relentless agony in his side and leg.

Desperation nagged at the Kid as they plodded along at what seemed to be a snail's pace and Heyes' life seeped slowly away with his blood. How he longed to kick the horse into a run, to get his partner help sooner, but what was the use of getting there sooner if the patient died on the way? He quelled his impatience and willed the miles to pass quickly.

The sun was setting when they finally entered the limits of Coldwater. Now all I gotta do is find the doctor, Kid said to himself. He spotted a lady hurrying down the boardwalk and called to her politely.

"Beggin' your pardon, ma'am, but could you direct me to the doctor?"

"Last house on the left before you leave town," the woman replied. "Go around to the back and ring the bell."

"Much obliged, ma'am." Curry tipped his hat politely and rode on.

The doctor's house was a modest two story with a white picket fence surrounding a yard filled with flowers of every kind, their scents perfuming the early evening air. Around the back was a small barn, a corral, and another garden, this one planted with vegetables. The farm boy in Curry approved.

He spotted the bell to the side of the back door and sidled the mare close enough that he could reach the thin rope and ring it.

The door opened quickly and in the warm glow from the house the Kid could see the silhouette of a woman. "May I help you?" she inquired.

"My friend here is hurt bad and needs the doctor," Curry replied.

"Yes, of course, I'll get him. Just a moment."

Wearily, stiffly, the Kid swung his leg over the hindquarters of the mare and stepped to the ground while keeping a steadying hand on his partner. A wave of dizziness swept over him and he leaned against the horse until it passed. Then, mindful of Heyes' leg, he moved to the right side of the animal, took Heyes' arm across his shoulders and put his other arm under the injured leg and began to ease him out of the saddle. As Heyes' left leg came over Curry caught it and was soon cradling his partner in his arms.

"Here, now, you should have waited for some help!" a different woman's voice protested.

"I've got 'im just fine, ma'am, but I'd be obliged if'n you show me where t'lay 'im."

"To be sure! Follow me!"

Curry followed into what looked like a waiting area, then an office, and finally turned left into a spacious room with a bed in its center, a dresser, a comfortable chair and, of all things, a potbellied stove in the corner.

The woman who led him pulled down the bedclothes and said, "Lay him on the bed, please."

The Kid did as she asked, gently laying Heyes on the bed. "_You_ ain't the doctor?" He looked at the woman directly for the first time and saw she was not much shorter than himself. Her hair was red-gold and hung in a long braid down her back with curly tendrils about her face. Emerald green eyes stared frankly back at him above a pert nose that sported a sprinkling of freckles. She had placed her hands on her hips which were clad in snug men's trousers tucked into high boots and she wore a green man's shirt with its sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

"No, it's me Da that's the doctor, and if ye're done starin', we can get your friend ready," the young lady replied tartly.

"Beggin' your pardon, ma'am, I didn't mean to stare."

"Sure you did; everyone does. Now, if you'll take off his boots and gunbelt, Mr. - - ?"

"Jones, ma'am. Thaddeus Jones and my partner here is Joshua Smith."

"Brigitte O'Reilly. Now, if you'll be so kind?"

"Yes, ma'am." Curry pulled off Heyes' boots and unbuckled his gunbelt, hanging it out of habit on the bedpost where Heyes could reach it quickly. Meanwhile, Brigitte had made quick use of a pair of scissors to cut Heyes' shirt and undershirt from his body, exposing the blood soaked bandages the Kid had put on the night before.

"He's lost a lot of blood," she tsked. "When did this happen?"

"Last night, ma'am."

"Here is a basin of warm water and clean towels, Brigitte," said a voice from the door.

"Thank you, Mary. Would you fetch that in, Mr. Jones?"

Curry turned to the door and froze in place at the beautiful girl framed there. She couldn't have been more opposite from the girl, Brigitte, with her dark, almost black, hair neatly pinned back from her face and eyes as blue as a deep mountain lake and just as easy to drown in. Her white skin was clear and freckle free and she wore a modest dress of blue that matched her eyes and showed off her tiny waist. She ducked her head shyly at his admiring glance and the Kid realized he was staring again and quickly stepped forward to claim the basin of water and towels. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Set it over here on this table, Mr. Jones. These bandages have dried to the wound and I'll have to soak them off. Oh, Mary, please find Sean and have him care for these gentlemen's horses."

"Yes, Brigitte. Father will be down in just a moment."

With sure movements, the red-haired girl wet a towel and laid it on the crusted old bandages, leaving it to soak through, then repeated the process with the leg wound.

Using the scissors again, she cut the strip of cloth that bound the side wound and slowly began working it off, which must have been painful to the patient because Heyes began to moan and move fitfully.

"Easy there, Joshua," the Kid soothed, stroking the damp hair back from Heyes' forehead. "You're at the doctor's now and you're gonna be okay."

"This is a gunshot wound!" Brigitte exclaimed as the bandage finally came off.

"Yes, ma'am, the one in the leg, too," Curry replied matter of factly.

"What happened?"

"Bushwackers in the pass, ma'am, thought to rob us. Joshua was shot before I could get the drop on 'em."

"You fought off a band of thieves by yourself?"

"Well, ma'am, there was only three an' only one put up a fight. I reckon I got lucky," the Kid replied modestly.

"For some reason, I don't believe there was luck involved at all."

"Suit yourself, ma'am."

"Please, my name is Brigitte; ma'am makes me sound like an old, respectable, married lady."

"None of which she is," said a new voice from the doorway. "She's not old, not respectable, and about as far from married as a single lass can get!"

"My father, Dr. O'Reilly, Mr. Jones. He has a rare sense of humor."

Curry turned to see a man of middling height, faded, graying red hair, washed out blue eyes, a red nose that spoke of excessive drink, and a waistline that threatened the buttons on his vest. Judging by looks, the Kid was not filled with confidence in his medical expertise.

"So what's the trouble with our patient here?" He moved into the room to stand across the bed from Curry.

"My partner has a couple of bullets in 'im, Doc," the Kid replied.

"I see, well, I am sorry then, lad, but I can't help him."

Curry's jaw dropped in shock. "But you ain't even looked at 'im yet! Please, Doc, if'n y'don't get those bullets out, he'll die!" the Kid begged in desperation.

A look of profound sorrow crossed the doctor's face as he shook his head. "Truly, I'm terribly sorry, but I can't."

Curry's eyes hardened in anger. "Can't, or won't?"

"It really makes no difference now, does it?"

"Doc, I've been in the saddle all day. I'm tired, I'm hungry, and sick with worry for my partner and I ain't in no mood to play games." Curry spoke in a calm, quiet voice that, those who knew him knew, indicated Kid Curry at his most dangerous.

"I'm not playing games, lad."

Between one breath and another the Kid's hand was filled with his six-gun and it pointed steadily at the doctor's heart across the bed. Brigitte gasped and her eyes widened in stunned surprise, her freckles standing out even more on her suddenly paler face.

"You're gonna take those slugs outta my friend, or you'll be in hell before 'im!"

"I _can't_. Go ahead and shoot me; it'll be a relief."

The Kid cocked the hammer back.

"Kid, no!" Heyes rasped hoarsely. "Not like this!"

Without taking his ice cold eyes from his prey, Curry replied, "He won't help you, Joshua, an' I won't let you die!"

"Have you asked him why?"

"Does it matter why?"

"Maybe."

"All right, then. _Why _won't you help my friend?"

"Show him, Da, he has a right to know if Mr. Smith is going to die as a result," Brigitte said firmly.

In silence the doctor held out his hands and Curry was stunned to see them trembling like aspen leaves in the wind.

"Oh, no!" the Kid whispered, sinking down onto the edge of the bed, his right hand, pistol forgotten, beating softly against his forehead.

Heyes reached a shaky hand to touch his partner's back. "S'okay, Thaddeus, y'did the best y'could."

"No! Where's another doctor?"

"Two, or three days from here, in Oakton," Brigitte replied.

"No, Thaddeus, no more. Put your gun away." Heyes' voice was faint but firm.

With none of his usual flourishes, Curry slid the pistol into its holster and turned agonized eyes to his partner. "_Heyes! "_ he protested, all his desperation in that one whispered word, heedless of anyone who heard.

"It's all right, Kid - - was bound to happen sooner or later - - we knew that from the beginnin'," Heyes' voice was weakening, but a slight smile lit his face.

"Shoulda been me!" Guilt and despair filled Curry's cry.

"There is another possibility," Brigitte interjected.

"What is it?" the Kid's eyes lit up with hope.

"_I_ can remove the bullets," the girl stated matter-of-factly.

"_You_? You ain't a doctor!"

"No, but I have assisted my father in many surgeries and I am certain I can do it. 'Tis the only chance your friend has."

Curry looked at Heyes and a world of meaning passed between them. "Let 'er do it, Kid. The worst that can happen is I die sooner."

"My father will assist."

"Are y'sure y'can do it?"

"The only sure thing is he will die if I don't."

"She is quite skilled and under any other circumstances should be a doctor in her own right," Dr. O'Reilly put in.

"All right, I reckon."

"Before I begin I want your assurance that you will not seek revenge on my family if I am not successful."

"Thaddeus ain't a murderer, ma'am," Heyes assured her.

"That's why he threatened us with his gun, then?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, truly I am. I just didn't understand." The Kid put on his best innocent look. "I give you my solemn promise that no matter what happens I won't hurt you, or your family."

"Very well. I have some preparations to make; I'll be back in a few minutes. Make yourself useful, Mr. Jones, and cut off that pant leg, then you can clean all the dried blood and dirt from around the wounds."

"Yes, ma'am."

Taking up the scissors, the Kid carefully cut the pant leg several inches above the bullet hole then down the seam so he wouldn't need to drag it over the wound. Then, using the still warm water in the basin, he gently began washing the two areas. This was more difficult to do without hurting his partner since the flesh around the wounds was swollen and red.

Heyes did his best to grit his teeth and bear the discomfort of the Kid washing his wounds, but still he was perspiring and breathing hard with the effort by the time he was finished. For a few moments he lay with his eyes closed, willing his mind to ignore the pain, but to his mind's eye the wounds were two throbbing fires.

He felt a cool cloth across his forehead and he opened his eyes to find himself looking into the Kid's worried blue eyes.

"Relax, Kid, everything's gonna be okay," he reassured his partner while harboring serious doubts himself. He knew he was at the limits of his strength and it took what little he had to remain conscious - - and he wanted to stay conscious and with his friend as long as he could.

Truth to tell, he was worried about the Kid. Kid Curry was notorious for his temper, and had kept Heyes busy keeping the fires damped down. What would he do when Heyes was gone? Who would steady him and keep him out of trouble? Would he keep trying for the amnesty, or just give up and go back to the outlaw life? How long would he survive?

The Kid liked to say that he was the only thing keeping Heyes alive, but really they kept each other alive. Neither of them did very well on their own; they were a well-balanced package deal, always had been.

A bustle of activity at the door distracted him from his morose thoughts.

"We're ready then," the girl with the sweet Irish brogue said. She leaned over him, feeling his forehead with her hand, which was cool to his heated skin. "I'm afraid this will hurt like the very Devil, Mr. Smith. We haven't any anesthesia."

"Do what y'have to do."

"I'll need you to keep your arms out of the way," she explained lifting first one arm and then the other over his head. "Can you hold on to the posts in the headboard? If not, I will have to tie them."

"No ropes - - I'll hold on."

"Good man. You may want to bite down on this," she held up a braided piece of rawhide. "You could bite a bullet, but I'd think you've had quite enough of bullets for a while."

"You're right about that. The rawhide will do."

Gripping the bedposts with his hands and the rawhide with his teeth, Heyes nodded he was ready.

"Mr. Jones, I'll need you to hold his legs and keep him from thrashing about. I'm going for the one in his side first - - that's the more dangerous one."

Heyes had thought he was prepared, but the tidal wave of burning agony that flooded over him when Brigitte began probing for the first bullet wiped all rational thoughts from his mind. A choked cry escaped around the leather gripped in his teeth and he tried to twist away from the pain.

"Hold him still, Mr. Jones!" was the last he heard before pain blotted all else, but consciousness, with its red tide.

Kid Curry had been involved in bullet removal before - done some himself even - - but seeing his partner, his best friend, struggling against the pain, his knuckles white as he gripped the bed posts, the veins in his neck near to bursting as agonized cries were strangled in his throat, made the Kid's stomach knot in anxiety. He had known strong men to die from the trauma of this procedure and he also knew Heyes wasn't at his strongest, probably at his weakest even, but he had a stubborn streak that would keep him fighting off the relief of unconsciousness.

"C'mon, Heyes, leggo - - spare yourself the pain," he muttered to himself.

"Got it!" Brigitte cried in triumph and dropped the bloody lump of lead in a basin.

The Kid moved to the head of the bed and glanced down at his partner, who lay gasping for breath, his eyes closed. Curry hoped he had let got of consciousness so he wouldn't have to feel the next go round, but he was disappointed when the dark brown eyes opened. The vulnerable, helpless look in those expressive eyes wasn't something Heyes would let anyone but his partner see.

Curry dried the perspiration that ran down the haggard face with a soft cloth. "You don't have to prove how tough you are, Joshua. I've known that for years."

"Ain't tryin' to, Thaddeus. You promised me a whiskey when we got to Coldwater. Now'd be a good time."

"Got any whiskey, Doctor?" Curry asked.

Brigitte looked disapprovingly at her father as she worked to stop the bleeding and bandage the wound, but she refrained from comment.

"As it happens, I have a bottle of excellent Irish whiskey," Dr. O'Reilly replied. "I'll bring the young man a glass."

Curry propped Heyes up a little with pillows so that he could more comfortably sip the amber liquid. "Ah, that's good! Best I've ever tasted! I could die satisfied now."

"No talkin' 'bout dyin', Joshua; you're gonna jinx yourself."

"Superstitious, Thaddeus?"

"Only when it's about you and death."

Heyes tossed off the last of the liquor. "Okay, do your worst; I'm ready!"

"I prefer she do her best."

"Just an expression, Thaddeus."

"Well, keep your blasted expressions to yourself, Joshua! You're invitin' bad luck!"

Heyes chuckled weakly. "Okay, okay."

Steeling himself for another bout of watching Heyes suffer, Curry was surprised when he slipped into unconsciousness moments after Brigitte started probing for the bullet.

"That's good," she commented. "This one has shifted and will be more difficult to get and even more so if he's thrashing about."

Bloody minutes later she successfully removed the final bullet and stitched the incision closed, then wrapped it in clean linen. She then took up her stethoscope and listened to the patient's heart. When she straightened, her face was grim.

"A word with you, Mr. Jones."

They drew away into a corner.

"I feel I must warn you, Mr. Jones . . . " she began.

"Thaddeus," the Kid interrupted.

"I must warn you, Thaddeus, that your friend is still in grave danger. His heart beats, but weakly, and in his weakened condition a fever, or pneumonia, could easily take him. The worst may be yet to come."

"I'm much obliged for what you've done, ma - - Brigitte. He'd have no chance at all without you."

"Brigitte?" A soft voice called from the doorway.

"Yes, Mary?"

"Supper is ready for Mr. Jones."

"Thank you, Mary."

The Kid looked curiously after the other girl. "She hasn't come into this room once," he commented.

"Mary is what you might call sensitive - - she feels very strongly the pain of others; so much that it makes her ill. We both used to help Da with his work and we noticed that she often got sick afterwards, but we didn't realize how serious it was until the day Mrs. Schmidt was having a difficult birthing. Mary disappeared and I found her in the barn, curled up in a tight ball, moaning and crying. She hasn't been allowed in a sick room since." She smiled at the Kid's skeptical expression. "How can a person of science and medicine believe such a thing, you wonder? We Irish haven't a problem reconciling the two."

"_I'm_ Irish," the Kid told her.

"Then it should come naturally to you. Now, go have some supper."

"I need to stay with Joshua."

"How long has it been since you ate?"

"Supper last night on the trail."

"You won't do Joshua any good if you faint from hunger. Go and eat - - I will stay with Joshua until you get back. And," she continued when Curry opened his mouth to speak. "If there is any change I'll call you immediately. You have my word."

Curry looked into the vivid green eyes and wished he had Heyes' knack for reading people, but even without it he could see nothing but frank honesty there. "All right, Brigitte, I'll leave him in your hands."

Brigitte watched the curly blond young man leave the room, taking with him the palpable atmosphere of danger with him, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

She turned to the injured man on the bed and placed her hand on his forehead, feeling the growing heat and felt concern build in her. She didn't want him to die, not because she feared his partner might not keep his word, but because she needed to satisfy her curiosity. She needed to know what kind of man inspired such love and devotion in another man. She had yet to meet a man who inspired those feelings in her and had wondered if it was a lack in her, or the men she had met lacking in character. Of course, she realized she wasn't most men's ideal woman either, with her aversion to women's clothes and her ability to outdo most men in most things. Da claimed she intimidated men with her independence, but, if that was the case, she would never marry because she could never be with a man who didn't value her as his equal.

She had known from the first moment she saw the pair that these were not two ordinary drifters and Thaddeus' speed on the draw and the deadly look in his eyes had only confirmed it. She had been totally amazed at the ability of the wounded partner to control the fury of the gunman - - and she was certain that that was his profession - - and at the complete and rapid melting of the said gunman's hard, cold eyes to warm solicitude for his friend's welfare. How had he done that?

She sat in the comfortable chair and watched the unconscious man. His face was haggard and worn from fatigue and pain even unconscious and the innate need to soothe and heal tugged at her heart, yet there was little to do now but wait.

"Kid? Where are you, Kid?" rasped the patient, tossing his head restlessly.

Brigitte stood and bent over him and saw that he was just rambling in his sleep. She stroked his hair back from his forehead and shushed him gently. "It's all right, Joshua, just relax. The Kid'll be back in a few minutes. Ssshh, now, you need to rest."

She wet a cloth in the basin and laid it across his forehead. With a sigh, he became silent again.

She returned to the chair knowing it was going to be a long battle back to health if he survived the crisis she knew was to come. She seriously doubted her patient's strength to weather it - - severe blood loss and the hardship of the trip here had taken their toll. She vowed to do her damnedest to get him through it.

Dr. O'Reilly led Curry to a warm, inviting kitchen where Mary worked at the stove and a young boy of about ten sat at the table.

"This is my son, Sean," the doctor said. "Sean, this is Mr. Jones."

"Howdy, Sean," the Kid greeted, noting that the young boy took after his sister, Mary, with dark hair and blue eyes.

"Pleased to meet you, sir. I've curried and fed your horses - - I gave them an extra measure of grain cuz they looked plumb tuckered out, 'specially the black."

"Much obliged; she carried double half the day."

Mary placed a plate in front of him piled high with eggs, thick bacon, and fried potatoes. A basket of biscuits sat in the center of the table. "I hope it's not too early for breakfast for you, Mr. Jones, or late as the case may be," she said softly, Kid would have even said meekly had he not looked up and caught the mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"No, ma'am, ain't never too early or too late for breakfast and, since I missed it this mornin', I'm actually behind in my breakfasts! Sure smells mighty good." Curry dug in with a will while she poured him a hot cup of coffee. "I wonder if y'might have a piece of paper and pencil to spare?"

"I'll fetch it for you, Mr. Jones!" the boy offered springing up from the table and racing out of the kitchen.

"Brigitte's really very good, Mr. Jones," Mary said. "Your friend is in good hands."

"Ma'am?" Kid looked up from his meal, surprised at the comment that came seemingly out of the blue.

"You're very anxious about him; I just thought to reassure you."

"Ma'am, the best doctors in the country could be takin' care of Joshua and I'd _still_ be worried!"

She nodded. "That part I understand, but I don't understand why you feel guilty."

"Who said anythin' 'bout feelin' guilty?" he asked more roughly than he would have if she hadn't hit the nail square on the head.

"It's there roiling all about with your worry and anger."

"Right, Brigitte mentioned somethin' 'bout you feelin' other people's feelin's. Don't you know why I feel guilty then?"

"I'm not a mind reader, Mr. Jones."

"Thaddeus."

"Thaddeus, then. I don't know what you're thinking, except maybe that you don't believe."

"Oh, I'd never question a lady, Mary," Curry replied with an 'okay, I'll humor you' expression on his face.

"So, are you going to tell me why you feel guilty?"

Curry looked down at his now empty plate, his eyes clouding as his mind flashed back to Dick Ramsey standing over Heyes' still, bleeding body and rage exploded in him along with the guilt. "_Because it shoulda been me!_ " he snarled, his eyes lifting and blazing into the girl's. She gasped and took an involuntary step back, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. "The guy that shot Joshua was gunnin' for _me_ cuz of a run in we had years ago! He shot him just to hurt me more and if I hadn't gone to check the horses I could have protected him!" This last came out almost as a sob and tears stung the Kid's eyes. He covered his face with his hands to hide them, breathing deeply to regain control of himself.

A gentle hand on his shoulder brought him back and he looked up to see tears streaming down Mary's face. "I'm sorry, Thaddeus, I wish I had the Sight so I could tell you he'll be all right."

"S'okay, Mary, I'm sorry I frightened you."

Sean chose that moment to bound back into the room waving paper and a stub of pencil. "Will this do, Mr. Jones?"

"That's perfect, Sean, thanks. Now I'm gonna write a telegraph and I'd like you to take it to the telegraph office for me first thing in the morning. Can you do that?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Jones!" the boy replied eagerly.

"I'd go myself, but I gotta stay with my friend an' it's real important it gets sent first thing. You won't forget?" Kid turned the full intensity of his blue eyes on the boy.

"Oh, no, sir, Mr. Jones, I won't forget, sir!"

Curry bent his head and wrote:

"To Sheriff Lom Trevors, Porterville, Wyoming. Have arrived in Coldwater, Colorado. J. Smith shot bad. Tell governor to expect a visit from KC if he dies. T. Jones."

He folded the paper and handed it and a silver dollar to the boy. "This should cover it. You keep whatever's left."

"Thanks, Mr. Jones!"

"Call me Thaddeus. Now I'd better get back to Joshua. Thank you for supper, Mary."

Heyes lay tossing his head restlessly, his brows drawn together in pain. Brigitte stood beside him wiping his face with a damp cloth.

"He's getting' worse, isn't he?" he asked with a sinking heart.

"He's a little feverish, but nothing to worry about yet. We need to get water in him. Can you lift him a bit while I try to give him a drink?"

Curry put his arm under his partner's shoulders and raised him while Brigitte held a cup of cool water to his lips. Heyes at first turned away, but when a dribble of water entered his parched mouth, he drank thirstily until the cup was empty.

"That's a good sign," the red-haired girl commented as the Kid laid him back down gently. "He's been calling for you - - Kid."

Curry froze at the familiar name from an unfamiliar mouth. Turning slowly, his cold blue stare pierced her, sizing up the possible danger. She stood fearlessly, her gaze mild and unthreatening.

"You _are_ Kid Curry," she stated as a matter of fact. "And you called him 'Heyes' so he must be Hannibal Heyes."

"Ain't no use in denyin' it, Brigitte," the Kid replied, his mind rapidly discarding plans since they all involved moving his partner who would not survive being moved. "What's your next move? I already gave my promise that I wouldn't hurt anyone in this family, and I can't break that promise, so now _my _life, as well as my partner's, is in your hands. Y'gonna call the sheriff?"

"If I did, you could get away; no one here could stop you."

"No, I couldn't - - I couldn't desert Heyes anymore than he'd desert me if he was in my place."

She nodded to herself as if his reply had answered some unspoken question. "I have no next move," she told him. "Except to do my best to make your friend well again. Your secret is safe with me and my family."

"Why?" he demanded bluntly. "The rewards on our heads could keep y'comfortable the rest of your lives."

"It's a national character trait that the Irish have no great love for the enforcers of the law. Many a hungry Irishman has had to resort to lawbreaking to feed his family under the English thumb."

Curry held her gaze steadily and she didn't flinch away. He sighed. "I reckon I ain't got any choice but to trust you. If he dies, I don't care what happens to me anyway."

"Kid? Kid, where are you?" Heyes' hoarse whisper drew Curry's attention back to his partner.

He sat gently on the edge of the bed and took Heyes' hand in one hand, and used the other to brush the hair back from his forehead. "I'm right here, Heyes; rest, get well, I've got your back."

Heyes never opened his eyes, but Curry's voice seemed to soothe him and his restless movement ceased as he returned to sleep.

"I've got to go mix up some medicine. I'll be back in about an hour."

"Anythin' in particular I oughta do?"

"Use the cool compresses and try to keep him still; we don't want him to start bleeding again. If you get a chance, give him more water."

"I'll take care of him."

Curry pulled the chair closer to the bed and settled in to watch.

His mood was bleak as he studied Heyes' still, white face - - white except for the ugly bruises left by Ramsey's blows, forgotten in the hurry to deal with the gunshot wounds. The Kid grit his teeth and wished he could kill Ramsey again but this time with his bare hands, because he needed something to hit. He hated waiting; he hated feeling helpless, but mostly he hated seeing Heyes like this.

His mind ran back to the time Heyes had been shot in the head by some guy systematically killing the players in a poker game. Then he had been able to find some comfort in action by trying to find out who had done it. Now there was no one to hunt down and nothing to do but wait.

Heyes moaned bringing the Kid to his feet. His eyes flickered open and, searching, found the Kid's. "Thirsty," he whispered.

The Kid filled the cup with water and lifted Heyes up, holding the cup to his lips. "Easy, Heyes, take it slow now."

The wounded man drained the cup and sighed as his partner laid him back again. "Thanks," he whispered with a wan smile and drifted back to sleep.

Curry wet a cloth and folded it neatly across his partner's forehead. He took another and gently washed the perspiration from his arms and torso. Finally, he pulled the blanket up to keep him warm. With his own sigh, he returned to his seat.

"How has he been?" Brigitte asked as she strode back into the room.

"Quiet, mostly. He woke up and drank some water a little while ago."

"That's good. Let's see if we can wake him again to get him to take some of this." She held out a mug.

"What's that?"

"An old Irish remedy. Before they were civilized, the tribes were always fighting each other so they needed to know a bit about healing. Of course they had only what nature provided. This is a mixture of herbs that will strengthen Joshua's blood and encourage his body to replace what was lost."

Curry sniffed at the cup. "Whoa! Smells like whiskey!"

She laughed, though Curry heard a note of bitterness in it. "What's an Irish remedy without whiskey?"

"Is that what happened to your father? I've seen men with a need for drink shake like that."

"That's what everyone will tell you, but, no, for him drink is the effect of the shaking, not the cause."

Curry shook his head. "You talk like Heyes. Can you tell me plainer?"

"Da's shaking disease came before he started drinking. We lived back East where Da had a thriving practice. Then his hands began to tremble slightly. Over time it grew worse, but he wouldn't admit he should stop doing surgery. One day, during a delicate operation on an important, influential patient, he couldn't control it and the patient died. There was an investigation, the patient's family wanted Da brought up on murder charges, so he packed us all up in the night and we came out here to Coldwater. He drinks to forget, but it doesn't help."

"No, it doesn't," Kid agreed.

She searched the young outlaw's somber face. "Yes, I guess you know. But I don't know why I've told you all this. Maybe so you'd know we understand to a certain extent what it's like to be on the run and so maybe you'll trust us - - me, more."

"You get my partner through this an' I'll trust you just fine."

"Let's get this medicine in him then."

"Heyes, wake up, buddy, you need to take some medicine." He raised his partner up again.

"Medicine, Kid?" Heyes croaked. "More whiskey'd be better."

"You're gonna like this medicine then," the Kid smiled.

Brigitte held the cup the Heyes' lips and he took a swallow and choked. "That's the worst whiskey I've ever drunk!" he gasped.

"Drink it, Heyes!"

"Okay, okay." Obediently, he drained the mug.

"That's good, partner. How're you feelin'?"

"Hurts bad, Kid, an' I'm gettin' real tired of fightin' it."

"You've been hurt worse an' survived, Heyes."

"Sure? I don't remember." Heyes' dark eyes looked doubtful.

"Trust me. Get some rest an' you'll be fine." The Kid held his partner's gaze steadily until the other's eyes drooped.

"Whatever you say, Kid."

Brigitte checked the bandages and frowned a little at the spot of red on the side wound. "His restlessness must have broken it open, but it seems to have stopped again. We have to keep him as still as possible to give that hole time to close."

"Restless is Heyes' normal way of bein', Brigitte. Y'might as well try t'stop the wind blowin' than keep Heyes still."

"Yet the wind does stop of its own accord," retorted the woman.

"Y'got a point there."

"He's pretty quiet right now, why don't you lay down and get some sleep? We have another room right next to this one."

"No, thanks, I'll just rest right here in this chair so I'll be close if he needs me."

"I'll stay with him."

"I need to be here," the Kid replied stubbornly. "He'll rest more secure if I'm nearby."

"Suit yourself. I'll get a stool so you can put your feet up."

Curry spent a mostly sleepless night, alert to any sound or movement from Heyes, though there were few since his partner lay as if he were dead. Twice he got up just to check that he was still breathing. Brigitte came in and out to check his heart rate and check the bandages. By morning they were both feeling the effects of the stress and lack of sleep.

"How is our patient today?" Dr. O'Reilly asked, entering the room as the sun rose. Brigitte was already there listening to Heyes' heart and lungs.

"Not much change, Da," she reported.

"May I?" he asked holding out his hand and she gave him the stethoscope.

Curry looked on with interest as the trembling hands placed the instrument on his friend's chest and listened intently. The older man nodded and said, "Sounds fine so far, although I'd like to hear his heart a little stronger. After that much blood loss, he needs to rebuild his strength."

"I gave him a dose of your blood building potion last night and Mary's been preparing a broth that should be ready about now."

"Good. Let's change these bandages and then you can try to get some of that in him."

To Curry, the wound in Heyes' side still looked bad with a black, crusted scab in the center and angry red edges, but the two examining it seemed satisfied. Brigitte swabbed the injury with antiseptic and gestured for the Kid to lift his partner's limp body while she wrapped a clean bandage around his midsection. Heyes' eyes flickered, but he didn't fully rouse.

The leg wound was a different story, still livid and swollen, the neat stitches Brigitte had made nearly disappearing in the puffy flesh. The Kid knew from practical experience that infection had set in.

"That doesn't look good, Da," Brigitte commented.

"Nor unexpected after that terrible ride here, the bullet shifting around inside, and bullets are notoriously dirty, nasty things. Perhaps if gunmen would sterilize them before puncturing other people's bodies with them it would make our work as doctors much easier! Don't you agree, Mr. Jones?" Dr. O'Reilly replied.

The Kid turned his unamused blue gaze on the medical man. "I reckon the cleanliness of their bullets is of little concern to a man inclined to killin' another man anyway, Dr. O'Reilly."

"Of course, you're right, young man, and this is certainly not a joking matter. The infection hasn't gone too far as yet so I think we can nip it in the bud. I anticipated this possibility and had Mary start some hot water. Perhaps you, Mr. Jones, could help Brigitte fetch a basin full, more clean cloths, and some of that broth?"

Curry hesitated, torn between the need to be with his partner and the desire to see the pretty Mary again.

"Go on," the doctor urged. "Mr. Smith will be fine in my hands for a few moments."

Deciding that making himself useful would help Heyes more, Curry nodded and left the room with Brigitte.

Chapter Two

Burning pain in his leg roused Heyes to full consciousness. His fogged brain couldn't immediately remember where he was, what had happened, or why his leg hurt so bad. He groaned and tried to pull away from the pain.

"Easy there, lad, best if you keep that leg still," a soft voice with an Irish lilt advised him.

Heyes blinked his eyes open and memory flooded back. "You're the doctor," he rasped.

"That's right. 'Tis sorry I am to have been hurting you, but an infection is beginning in that leg and I needed to clean it well."

"S'okay, Doc, you do what y'gotta do. It's not the first time I've been shot - - occupational hazard."

"Perhaps you should consider changing occupations whatever it is."

"We're workin' on it, Doc, but it ain't as easy as we thought it would be."

"Nothing ever is, lad."

"Where's Thaddeus?"

"He'll be right back. I sent him to fetch some hot water and cloths."

At that moment the Kid walked in, a basin of water in his hands, and seeing the familiar curly blond hair and bright blue eyes brought a smile to Heyes' weary face. "Hey, Thaddeus, you okay?"

A dazzling smile lit the Kid's whole face. "Joshua! Why you askin' me that? You're the one that's hurt!"

"Yeah, well, I know how you can't seem to stay out of trouble when I'm not watchin' you."

"I reckon you got that backwards. How're you feelin'?"

"Like a bear woke up in the middle of winter - - sore an' tired."

Brigitte, meanwhile, had wet a cloth in the hot water and laid it over the leg wound.

"Ow!" Heyes complained. "That's hot!"

"The heat and moisture will help draw the infection out and hopefully prevent it from spreading," she explained.

"Don't be a baby, Joshua," Curry scolded.

"Wanna change places, Thaddeus?" Heyes frowned, only half-serious.

"Now, boys, let's not quarrel. Joshua's broth is getting cold," Brigitte intervened while recognizing their words as good-natured banter between close friends. "Would you help Joshua up, Thaddeus?"

Propping extra pillows behind his back, the Kid soon had Heyes in a semi-sitting position and sipping the mug of warm broth. "My compliments to the chef, but a juicy steak would have hit the spot."

"So you may think, Joshua, but your body is working hard enough trying to heal itself without the extra labor of digesting a steak. The broth is nutritious and easily used by the body to rebuild its strength," Brigitte instructed the ex-outlaw.

Strangely enough, Heyes felt full after he drained the mug; full and very sleepy. "You know, I think I'll sleep some more," he said his eyes already drooping and he was fully asleep before Curry had him comfortably resettled.

Dr. O'Reilly lifted the cooled cloth and replaced it with another warm one. "These need to be changed as they cool," he told the Kid. "I'll have Sean come in and light the stove so you can have hot water at hand without having to trek every time to the kitchen."

"Much obliged, Doc," Curry said gratefully and looked down at his feet for a moment before raising his eyes to look directly into the doctor's. "I'm really sorry for my behavior last night. I didn't mean to frighten everyone - - well, I _did _, but Joshua was right, it was wrong. I wouldn't really have hurt you."

"It's all right, Thaddeus, I understand that you were distraught. Joshua is not out of the woods yet, however. This infection has me concerned - - in his weakened condition it could spread easily. Pneumonia is also a very real concern. If you hear even the slightest cough, I want you to call me."

Curry felt a chill of fear down his spine. "Yes, sir, I will," he agreed fervently. He stood gazing down at his partner's still face, lines of suffering

apparent even in sleep. How frail his slender frame looked lying there, how fragile his connection to life. _What will I do if you're not by my side, Heyes?_ he wondered.

"He'll be asleep for a while, Thaddeus. Why don't you go get some breakfast?" Brigitte's voice penetrated his brain, but his fear had him rooted to the spot and mute. "Thaddeus?" Her touch on his arm brought him back to himself.

"What? I'm sorry, Brigitte, I was thinkin'." He shook himself out of his gloomy thoughts.

"I said, go get some breakfast while he's asleep."

"Okay, but somehow it seems wrong for me t'be eatin' with him so sick."

"What good does it do him if you make yourself sick?"

"You've got a point. I'll be right back."

Mary was adding another flapjack to the already towering mountain of the same when the Kid strode into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Thaddeus. Help yourself."

"Mornin', Mary. Thanks, it smells delicious." He forked several flapjacks onto his plate and topped them with a drizzle of maple syrup.

Mary poured him a cup of coffee as she asked, "How is Joshua?"

"No better," he replied shortly.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but it's early yet." She went back to the stove and Curry applied himself to his breakfast, adding several more flapjacks to his plate after suddenly finding the first were gone.

He had finished and was sipping a second cup of coffee when Sean raced in. "Got your telegraph sent, Thaddeus," he announced. "I was there first thing, waiting at the door before it even opened. I hung around just to make sure he sent it straight off."

"Good man."

The boy's face glowed from the praise. He loaded up a plate with flapjacks and dug in ravenously. "Do you always wear that gun, Thaddeus?" he asked around a mouthful.

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Protection - - it's a dangerous world out there. You see what happened to my partner."

"Are you a gunslinger?"

"Now, Sean, leave off pestering the man and eat your breakfast!" Mary scolded. To Curry she said, "He got hold of one of those dime novels from one of his friends and he's gotten the idea that being an outlaw is an exciting life!"

"Is that a fact, Sean?" The Kid turned a curious look on the boy. "Y'think bein' chased by a posse out to at least catch you, if not kill you, goin' hungry an' thirsty, not havin' a home t'call your own, always lookin' over your shoulder, is an excitin' life? Not to mention stealin' an' killin' are wrong."

"But the book said . . . " the boy began in protest.

"The people who write them books don't know nothin' about it! If they told it the way it really is, nobody'd buy 'em! My partner and I are personally acquainted with some outlaws an' a more miserable bunch you ain't gonna meet!" the outlaw stated emphatically.

"But . . . "

"Y'ever heard of Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry?"

"Of course! Who hasn't? They're the most famous outlaws of all!" Sean's eyes were bright with excitement.

"Well, I happen to know for a fact that those two have given up the outlaw life cuz it just ain't no good!"

"Really?" Sean seemed stunned by this news.

"Really."

The boy subsided into thoughtful silence as he finished his breakfast. Mary mouth a silent 'thank you' over his head and the Kid winked.

"I better get back to Joshua. Thanks for breakfast, Mary, reckon I'm caught up on 'em now."

"We'll move on to lunch then next time."

It didn't look like Heyes had moved once since he'd been gone.

"No change," Brigitte informed him.

Curry rubbed his hand tiredly across his eyes and sighed.

"You really should lay down and get some decent sleep," she advised.

"No, I can't. I would feel better if I could wash up and shave, though."

"There's water heating on the stove, a basin, soap, towel, and razor on the dresser."

Curry looked at her in surprise. "Does this 'feelin' stuff run in the family?"

She laughed. "No, Thaddeus, it's just experience; having cared for my father for years I learned what comforts a man appreciates. I'll leave and give you your privacy."

Although a full bath in a steaming tub would have been even more pleasant, still the Kid felt refreshed having shaved and otherwise cleaned up as best he could.

He emptied the basin and refilled it with clean water and performed the

same service on Heyes. Brigitte knocked and entered as he was taking the last few strokes in shaving his friend's face. At her look he explained, "I figgered he'd rest better if he were a little cleaner, too. We both prefer to be clean - - a hot bath is at least our second stop when we hit a town."

"Second?" she raised a questioning brow.

"Sometimes a drink has to be first."

"Cleaned up he looks less dangerous - - more vulnerable."

"Well, Brigitte, Heyes is just as dangerous clean, or not, but he isn't partial to facial hair. I had a moustache for a while an' he prit' near nagged me to death until I shaved it off. Never told me why it bothered 'im so."

"How long have you two known each other?"

"All our lives it seems like. We lived on neighboring farms in Kansas and we both lost our families in the Border Wars so we got put in an orphanage. I was a stubborn, angry little cuss always gettin' beaten for one thing or the other an' Heyes kinda took me under his wing, tried t'keep me out of trouble. It was pretty bad there and when we couldn't stand it anymore we ran away."

"Why did you become outlaws?"

"Not too many jobs for kids out there and all we knew was farmin'. Heyes felt the burden of takin' care of me cuz he was older and so we did what we had to t'live. Got pretty good at it, too."

"Are the rumors true that you two have gone straight?"

"Yeah, we were given a chance an' we took it. It ain't been easy, cuz we're still wanted an' some folks find the rewards on our heads mighty temptin'. I told Heyes in the beginnin' we probably shoulda split up - - I figgered he had a better chance without a gunslinger with a reputation hangin' around - - he wouldn't be lying there now if we had." Curry's voice cracked a little and he clamped his mouth closed, gritting his teeth against the tightness in his throat and the prickling of tears.

"_You_ didn't shoot him, Thaddeus; it isn't your fault!" The red-haired girl gently touched the gunslinger's arm, thinking how young and undangerous he looked at that moment.

Out of words, Curry sank down onto the chair and resumed his vigil.

"There's broth keeping warm on the stove. If - - when he wakes up, see if he'll take some more and plenty of water," Brigitte instructed and accepted the man's nod as his best response.

"Kid! Look out behind you! No! No!" Heyes' frantic cries snapped the Kid out of his light doze and he jumped to his feet, his gun instinctively leaping into his hand. He hurriedly put it back when he recalled where he was and moved to his partner's side.

Heyes' cries had dropped to incoherent mumbles. But he tossed his head and moved restlessly. Curry put a hand to his forehead and found it very hot. He quickly wet a cloth and laid it across his brow.

Brigitte raced in. "I heard him yelling! What's going on?"

"He's burning up with fever!"

"We've got to keep him cool and hydrated. See if you can get some water in him."

Curry sat on the bed and lifted his partner up to lean against him, holding a cup of water to his lips. "Wake up, Heyes, you need to drink this water."

Heyes turned his head away, his eyes opening, but not seeming to see. "No, I need to find the Kid. They took him away!"

"I'm right here, Heyes; I haven't gone anywhere," the Kid reassured him.

"Kid?" Dark brown eyes found Curry's. "I saw the posse catch you. Was I dreamin' then?"

"Yeah, it was just a fever dream. Here, drink some water."

Heyes drank thirstily and asked for more.

"How 'bout some broth?"

"Nah, just water."

The dark-eyed outlaw drank the second cup of water and as he dropped the cup from his lips he coughed, wincing as the movement of his stomach muscles pulled at his wound.

"You okay?" the Kid asked in concern.

"Just swallowed the wrong way," his partner replied huskily, but then, as if to prove him wrong, another cough shook him. "Ah, damn, that hurts!"

Curry caught Brigitte's eye over Heyes' head. "Can you fetch your father?"

She nodded and said, "I'll get some other preparations started, too. Keep trying to get his fever down."

Curry settled Heyes back against the pillows and replaced the cool cloth on his forehead. "You don't do anythin' by halves, do ya, Heyes?"

"Ain't no profit in that, Kid," the other replied with a weak grin.

"Explain to me sometime how you're profitin', okay?"

"What's going on here, me boyos?" Dr. O'Reilly strode in purposefully and Curry noticed a new confidence in him.

"You wanted to know if he coughed, Doc," the Kid reminded him.

"Coughing, are you? Bullets aren't enough for you? It's people like you, and birthing women, that keep a doctor from his beauty sleep!"

Heyes laughed weakly at the doctor's teasing. "You've missed a lot then, I see," he joked in reply.

"Good lad! If you haven't lost your sense of humor, there's hope for you yet!" Dr. O'Reilly laid the stethoscope on Heyes' chest and listened intently then told Curry, "I need to listen to his back, if you please."

Once again Curry helped Heyes rise to a sitting position and supported him while the doctor moved his instrument from one side to another, returning for a final time to the right side. "Why do you listen to his back, Doc?" the Kid wanted to know.

"You get a much clearer sound from the lungs without so much noise from the heart," he explained.

"How is he, Da?" Brigitte queried as she reentered the room carrying a basket filled with plants.

"Yeah, Doc, what did you hear?" Curry demanded.

"I'm kinda interested myself," Heyes put in.

"There's fluid in the right lung - - that's why you're coughing, your body is trying to get rid of it - - that, along with your high temperature, indicates pneumonia - - not a good thing in your weakened condition."

"Don't soften the news, Doc, just give it to me straight," Heyes said wryly, then chuckled which set him coughing, one hand holding his wounded side. As the spasm passed and he collapsed panting back against the pillows, he stared at the blood that stained his palm. "Damn!" he cursed softly, grimacing.

"What is it, Joshua?" Curry questioned.

Not bothering to reply, the outlaw just turned his hand so his partner could see for himself.

"Damn!" the Kid echoed. "Your wound has reopened!"

"Let me have a look." Brigitte stepped in and cut the soiled bandage, examining the wound. "It's not too bad, yet."

"_Yet_ ?" the Kid frowned.

"More coughing won't help it any."

"Oh, right," he agreed sarcastically. "No more coughin', Joshua!"

Heyes responded by coughing.

Seeing the blond gunman practically grinding his teeth in frustration, Dr. O'Reilly intervened. "There is one piece of good news."

"What might that be?" Curry growled.

"His left lung is still clear so he'll still get sufficient oxygen."

"What good will that do if he ain't got blood in 'im?" The Kid's eyes burned with anger, his whole body as tense as a cougar poised to pounce, and everyone in the room seemed to cease breathing.

Everyone, that is, except Heyes. "Kid," he rasped. "You're scarin' these good people, an' they ain't done nothin' but help. Why don't you go outside an' get some air?"

"I don't _need_ any air, Heyes, I _need_ you to get better!"

"Well, that ain't gonna happen with you terrorizin' everybody! Go outside for five minutes and calm down!" Heyes' eyes took on a hard look that even the most recalcitrant of the Devil's Hole gang had known meant the outlaw leader was not to be messed with and Kid Curry, who had never backed down when called out, tried to hold his partner's stare, but knew he was beaten.

"Fine! I'll be back in five minutes!" He threw up his hands and stalked from the room.

"_How_ do you do that?" Brigitte gasped in awe as everyone once again began to breathe.

"Do what, ma'am?" he answered innocently.

"Control him! Even as sick as you are, helpless to actually stop him, he does as you say!"

"Thaddeus is the most gentle person I know, ma'am, he just needs to be reminded on those occasions when he loses his temper. He hates bein' helpless an' right now he's takin' it personal that I'm in this predicament, so he's a mite prickly."

"_Prickly_?"

"Yes, ma'am." Heyes attempted a grin, but it became a grimace instead. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to stem the misery that flowed through every part of his body, but it was a losing battle he knew and exhaustion overwhelmed him.

Contrite that she had taxed his strength, Brigitte let the matter drop. She lay her hand against his cheek and frowned at the heat she felt there. She stroked back the hair that had fallen across his forehead in his violent coughing and nearly fell into the dark depths of the eyes that opened and stared into hers.

"Please take care of him - - if I don't make it," Heyes whispered barely audibly.

"You just worry about getting well, Mr. Heyes. Sleep now."

Unable to fight any longer, he drifted away.

Dr. O'Reilly looked on in sadness as he saw his daughter give her heart to a dying man.

Kid Curry was oblivious to the brilliant sunshine and the cheerful birdsong that filled the air as he stepped into the backyard of the doctor's house. All he could see was Heyes' pain-wearied face and all he could hear were his wracking coughs. He knew he was being irrational and that his anger served no useful purpose, but then, what could he do that was useful?

He glanced around the yard and spotted Mary working in the vegetable garden. He took an instinctive step in her direction and then stopped. No, there's no future there, he told himself, no future at all if Heyes dies.

Instead he strode to the barn where the horses were stabled. He grabbed a brush and began vigorously brushing the black mare, concentrating only on each stroke and letting his anger and frustration flow out through them.

"What's wrong, Thaddeus?" Mary's quiet voice broke into his concentration. "I saw you walk right by without even a wave."

"Sorry, Mary, I ain't very sociable right now," the Kid replied curtly.

"What's wrong?' she asked again.

With a sigh, Curry closed his eyes and laid his forehead against the horse's silky hide. "On top of his leg wound being infected, Joshua has pneumonia! His coughin' has made him bleed again, an' I'm so afraid he's gonna die!

"Oh, Thaddeus, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed coming around the horse to lay her hand gently on his shoulder. "But you mustn't give up."

"There ain't nothin' I can do for him, Mary! I feel so helpless just watchin' him gettin' weaker an' weaker!" He turned his desperate eyes to hers and saw sympathy refected back in hers. "What'm I gonna do if - - ?" He couldn't finish the thought out loud because saying it might make it real.

"You will find a way to go on, as life goes on."

His eyes were bleak as he replied. "No, Mary, not for me. If you'll excuse me, I gotta get back."

"Thaddeus!" he heard her call as he strode deliberately back to the house. He ignored her, what else was there to say? He continued to ignore her when he heard her running footsteps behind him. "Please, Thaddeus, wait!"

She caught him by the arm and he spun around to face her. "There ain't nothin' left to say, Mary!" he said harshly.

"Be his strength, Thaddeus," was all she said, then stood on tiptoe to kiss him lightly on the lips. Before he could say another word, she dashed into the house.

Puzzled by her words and with the feel of her soft lips still on his, Curry made his way back to Heyes' room where, when he opened the door, he was hit by a wall of steamy heat and the pungent aroma of herbs. "What's all this?" he asked.

"The steam and herbs will help clear the congestion from his lung so that he will breathe easier and cough less. It won't cure the pneumonia - - his body still has to do that - - but it's all I can do. I wish there was more."

"It's all right, Brigitte, I know you're doin' all you can. I'm sorry for losin' my temper."

"Think nothing of it, I understand you're worried. We're not giving up, but now the battle is mostly his."

Curry hurried to Heyes' side as a cough wracked his body. He supported the sick man's shoulders until the spasm subsided and as he did so felt the fiery heat of his skin. "He's still burnin' up!"

"The crisis is just beginning, Thaddeus, and this will be a critical night. If we can get the fever broken, he may have a chance."

"_May_ ? You sounded more confident earlier."

"I want to be honest with you - - Joshua's condition is very grave."

"What're his chances?"

"Maybe fifty percent, probably less."

Stunned, Curry dropped into the chair, his head in his hands. "This can't be happenin'!"

Brigitte sat on the stool in front of him and hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry I can't give him better odds, Kid," her voice quavered.

Curry dropped his hands and met the green eyes earnestly staring into his and was surprised to see them brimming with tears, one drop slowly wending its way down her freckled cheek. He wiped it gently away with his thumb. "You're not givin' up on 'im, are you? We can't give up yet."

"No, of course not! I just wanted you to know the facts."

Resolute, the Kid stood and said, "Tell me what I gotta do."

There followed intense hours of keeping the stove hot to fill the room with herbal steam, cool wraps to try to bring down the fever, and endless raisings of Heyes to allow him to cough without putting undo stress on his side wound. At the same time the infected leg wound had to be monitored - - Dr. O'Reilly ventured in to lance the wound to allow the accumulated pus to drain and instructed them to continue with the hot packs to bring more to the surface.

Sean stayed outside the door to run and fetch while Mary stayed busy in the kitchen brewing coffee and herbal potions to force down Heyes on the occasions he was awake.

Deep in the night, during a lull in their frenetic activities, Curry sat for a moment, intending only to catch his breath, but drifted immediately to sleep. Brigitte shaking his shoulder brought him instantly awake. "How long have I been sleepin'?" he asked feeling guilty for his lapse.

"No more than an hour," she replied.

Hearing something different in her voice, he glanced at her sharply and saw her eyes glistening with tears. "What is it? How's Heyes?"

"He's failing, Kid. I don't think he'll last the night."

"No, y'gotta be wrong!" Curry leaped to his feet and looked down at his partner.

Heyes lay pale and unmoving, his breaths so shallow the Kid had to look closely to see his chest rise. Perspiration glistened on his forehead and, even in sleep, his eyebrows were pulled together in pain. Curry put his hand to his friend's cheek and felt the fever still raging.

At his partner's touch, Heyes opened his eyes and raised his hand weakly. Curry grasped it in his own. "We had a good run, Kid," he gasped barely audibly.

"No, Heyes, you can't die!" Curry protested.

"C'mon, Kid, you play poker - - sometimes y'gotta throw in a losin' hand. I can't bluff or scheme my way out of this one."

"I ain't gonna let you die!"

"How y'gonna stop Death, Kid? Even you can't kill 'im."

"D'ya wanna die, Heyes? Is that what you're tellin' me?" the Kid demanded angrily.

Heyes sighed and closed his eyes and when he reopened them Curry could see defeat in them, something the outlaw leader had never shown before. "I'm tired of fightin', Kid - - fightin' the pain, fightin' t'breathe even. I ain't got the strength t'fight anymore."

Curry's eyes hardened and his lips tightened. "So, you, who ain't never killed nobody in all our years of outlawin', are gonna make murder your last act, huh?"

"What're you talkin' about, Kid?" Heyes' brows knit in confusion.

"You heard me, Heyes. If you die, it'll be just like you murdered _me _cuz I won't be long behind you!"

"But, Kid, the amnesty . . . "

"There _ain't_ no amnesty without you, Heyes, never has been!" Curry exploded. "You die, I'll see you buried good an' proper an' then I'll do somethin' stupid - - just like you always worried about - - an' they won't take me alive! I'll make sure they gun me down an' it'll be just as if you put the gun to my head right now an' pulled the trigger!"

"You can't put the blame on me for what you do when I ain't around to stop you!" Heyes protested as strongly as he could.

"Watch me! You die now you go to the grave knowin' you murdered Kid Curry!" Curry repeated stubbornly.

"What about that wife an' pack of kids you told me about?"

"That future only exists if _you're_ there, Heyes!"

A fit of coughing took away anything Heyes might have said in response and Curry sat on the bed and held his partner until the spasm passed, feeling how wasted his friend's body felt in his arms.

Tears trembled in Heyes' eyes when he finally opened them and his voice was so faint Curry had to lean closer to hear him. "I don't wanna die, Kid," he admitted. "I just ain't got the strength t'live anymore.'

Seeing he had his partner on the run, Curry pressed his advantage. "You got the spirit, Heyes, you got the will and the brain to beat this - - remember how you got the Devil's Hole gang outta terrible fixes? - - I got the strength, use it, like you always did. FIGHT, Heyes, FIGHT! _I'll_ be your strength. I've got your back just like I always have!"

"Y'think we can do it, Kid?"

"'Course we can, Heyes, as long as it's me an' you together, we can do it, just like we always did. I ain't leavin' your side, or lettin' go of your hand until you pull through this, Heyes," the Kid promised.

"Okay, Kid, you win. I'll keep fightin'," Heyes sighed. "Your stubbornness is gonna get you in trouble some day."

"Yeah, but not today."

Brigitte looked on and listened to the struggle between the two men and tears streamed down her cheeks. She didn't see how Kid Curry's demand that Heyes not give up would in any way change the final outcome, because Heyes' body was just giving out, but she applauded his devotion and empathized with his despair at the thought of losing his best friend and partner. She felt all her fear of the young gunman melt away at this display of love and she knew that Heyes, no matter his crimes, was the only man she could give her heart to.

No matter how hopeless her training told her the situation was, her Irish stubbornness wouldn't allow her to give up either, so she continued treating his fever and his infection. She worked around Kid Curry, who, true to his word, didn't let go of his partner's hand while he talked and, as long as he was awake, Hannibal Heyes listened, his dark eyes glued to the Kid's blue.

"Y'know," Curry was saying, "If there was a telegraph in Devil's Hole all the boys'd be here for you, Heyes. They all have a fondness for you, even Wheat, though he was powerful envious of you an' looked for every opportunity to make himself look like a better leader than you. Boys knew better, though . . . "

She moved away to add more water to the kettle of herbs on the stove and lost the thread of his story, but when she came back into hearing distance again, he was saying, ". . . never forget that bank blowing up in Porterville an' all that money flutterin' down from the sky like big green snowflakes! Never forget the look on Lom's face neither. He sure had a powerful suspicion it was us who'd done it, but with Miss Porter backin' us up that we chased off the bandits, there wasn't nothin' he could do 'bout it."

She listened and learned a lot about the two young outlaws. She was impressed by their determination to succeed at going straight even though the obstacles they faced seemed insurmountable. Weaker men would have long given up and gone back to their old ways. She was hard put to think of any law-abiding men with such sterling characters as these two "bad men".

On and on Curry talked, even when Heyes' eyes were closed he talked, sure somehow that he was still hearing him and taking strength from his voice. At first he had to force it, but then it was as if a dam had broken and the words and memories flooded out of his mouth.

He talked about the good times they had had robbing banks and trains with the Devil's Hole gang. Heyes had taken such pleasure in planning each robbery and even when there'd been a hitch in the carrying out of the plan, he'd enjoyed finding a way to fix it, or, in the worst cases, get them away unscathed. Heyes had never met a puzzle or problem he didn't like and hadn't plunged wholeheartedly into to solve. He had always hated when an operation had gone so wrong that violence was called for. Heyes was not violent by nature. He carried a gun because it was a tool, and it would be the ultimate in foolishness to go unarmed, but he preferred not to have to use it.

That was where Kid Curry came in. His pleasure was in the use of his gun: the smooth, quick action of the draw, the bullet accurately striking its target, and the smell of gunpowder. His job was to keep the gang in line, to enforce Heyes' rules, to see that the boys knew their place in the plan and didn't step out of it. He wasn't a killer, nor violent by nature either, but he knew there were times when a gun was necessary, when even Heyes' famous silver tongue was useless. Because he wasn't a killer, he practiced so much that he was so good that _not_ killing became an option. The few times he had had to kill would weigh on his conscience if he dwelled on them, but he had done what he'd had to do at the time and let it go.

"You think this is a tight fix you're in," he was saying to a mostly alert Heyes. "Remember working that gold mine with Seth and Danny Bilson an' havin' t'cross the desert on foot with no food an' that little jug of water?"

Heyes nodded slightly and said, "I remember."

"Remember how impossible it seemed, but somehow we survived; we made it out against the odds? This ain't no harder, Heyes."

The outlaw leader's eyes hardened at the memory. "We had a reason to survive, Kid - - revenge. We couldn't let Danny get away with killing Seth - - forget the gold we had worked so hard for. I never told you, but I was really glad you killed him!"

"Never knew you to be so bloodthirsty, Heyes," Curry grinned.

"Some people just need killin', Kid, when what they done is so evil."

"Dick Ramsey was one of 'em. I shoulda gut shot 'im."

"Now who's bloodthirsty?"

"He hurt you, Heyes," the Kid replied simply.

"I'd'a killed 'im, too, Kid . . . " Heyes' voice faded as he drifted back into unconsciousness.

"I know you would've," Curried replied softly.

Ignoring the ache in his back and the burning in his shoulders, the Kid stayed by his partner's side, his grip warm and firm on the other's hand, vaguely aware of the activity going on around him, focusing his whole being on Heyes' survival.

In the dark hours before dawn, Heyes' fever reached its peak, sweat pouring from his body, his mind thrown into delirium. Kid Curry knew that this was the test of his and his partner's will and he threw all his determination into the task, even sending a prayer winging to heaven if God listened to such as he.

_Thundering hoofbeats pounded behind him and Heyes whipped his horse to faster speed with his reins, risking a quick glance behind him to see the posse rapidly gaining on him. He had never seen a posse so big before and they were all dressed in black on black horses so that it looked like a huge storm speeding across the land._

_Panic filled him and he leaned forward, urging his already laboring horse to greater effort. He knew the leader of this posse, knew his reputation for never bringing in an outlaw alive if the reward was dead or alive, and he didn't want to die._

_ Where was the Kid? How had he lost him? They'd been together, but now he couldn't see him anywhere. _

_ On and on they raced until suddenly his horse collapsed and he was thrown to the ground. Frozen, he was unable to move out of the way of the oncoming horde, only watch as it bore down on him inexorably. _

_ "Heyes!" He heard a shout and looked around to see the Kid behind him, the sun gleaming in his curly hair making it seem made of gold. He was reaching his hand down from atop his mount. "Grab my hand, Heyes!"_

"_No, Kid! Get away! Save yourself!" he yelled._

"_Won't leave without you," the Kid told him stubbornly. "Now grab my hand, or we both die!"_

_ Heyes grabbed the proffered hand and Kid Curry swung him up behind him. Somehow, even carrying a double load, the horse managed to stay ahead of the posse. "Y'never leave your partner behind," Curry told him. _

Over and over again, this dream, or some variation, played out in Hannibal Heyes' fevered mind, and every time Kid Curry was there with his strong arm to pull Heyes from danger and death in the nick of time.

Then it was over, the thundering hoofbeats gone and the sun breaking through the dark clouds overhead. Heyes found himself high on a mountain, the bright rays of sunshine beaming down into a wide green valley that called to Heyes' soul. He looked down and saw a path leading from the mountain down into the valley and he took a step forward.

"Heyes!" he heard Kid Curry cry and he turned to see his partner standing on the other side of the pass, his hand stretched out, his oh, so familiar blue eyes pleading, but not moving from his spot.

Heyes felt the tugging of the valley and he glanced away to gaze again at the beauty and peace of the vista before him.

"Y'never leave your partner behind," Kid's voice sounded from behind him and Heyes turned back to look again into the face of the man who was closer than a brother to him, his hand still outstretched. "Take my hand, Heyes. Stay with me."

Heyes smiled and stepped away from the valley, clasping his partner's hand. "Sure, Kid, y'never leave your partner behind."

The fever broke as the sun set and Heyes drifted into a natural, healing sleep. Exhausted, Kid Curry still remained at his side, his hand clasping his partner's. The battle had been hard fought, and several times he had nearly despaired, especially just before the fever broke when he had felt as if Heyes were on the brink. Then he had felt a slight tightening of the hand he held and he had looked up to see his friend's dark eyes open and, with a slight smile, Heyes had said, "Y'never leave your partner behind, Kid."

Now he lay peacefully, many of the lines of suffering smoothed from his face. Both Dr. O'Reilly and Brigitte had examined him and proclaimed the crisis past. "However, it will be some time before he has more strength than a newborn baby," the doctor warned.

"I don't care how long it takes, Doc," the Kid sighed in relief. "As long as he gets better!"

"Well, barring any unexpected setbacks, he will, Mr. Curry."

Curry looked sharply at the doctor then at Brigitte, who shook her head.

"No, she didn't tell me. I have never been so far gone in drink that I became blind, young man. A doctor is trained to observe and to listen to the smallest details in order to diagnose a disease, and I have known since the first night when you drew on me that you were more than you seemed. I heard him call you Kid that night, and you called him Heyes, and he spoke of posses in his delirium. You were a mite careless, I'd say, if you wanted to keep your identities secret."

"Not careless, Doc, I just didn't care 'bout anythin' but Heyes' recovery, an' if he didn't I didn't care 'bout anythin' at all. Now what do you plan to do about it?"

"Nothing, my boy. Even if Brigitte hadn't promised you safety here, I would not be sending a bona fide miracle to prison, for that is what you and your friend have pulled off here because Mr. Heyes _should _have died."

"Now that that's settled, I insist you go get some decent sleep, Thaddeus," Brigitte ordered.

"The same goes for you, Brigitte-lass," Dr. O'Reilly interjected before Curry could object. "You two have both been up for an almost straight forty-eight hours. I will stay with Mr. Heyes. I'm fully capable of caring for him should he waken, which I doubt. Now get along, both of you."

Released from the tension of Heyes' life hanging in the balance, the Kid felt the full weight of his exhaustion bear down on him so when Brigitte showed him to the adjacent room, he barely got his boots off before he was asleep sprawled across the bed.

Sunlight streaming across the bed woke Heyes the next morning and he blinked in its brightness. He felt a cool touch on his forehead and looked into a pair of the brightest green eyes he had ever seen, set in a pretty face framed by tendrils of flaming red hair. Full red lips smiled gently.

He smiled in return and said, "I didn't know angels had freckles!"

"Sure an' y'must be feelin' stronger to come on with the blarney so early in the mornin'!" the vision responded pertly in a sweet Irish lilt.

"It's only blarney if it ain't the truth. I remember you - - you're the girl who took the bullets outta me."

"I'm surprised you remember anything, Mr. Heyes, as sick as you've been," she replied, staightening his blankets and tucking them in.

His smile disappeared as he said, "It seems you have an advantage over me: you know my name, but I don't know yours."

"You're not to worry about us knowing who you are. You're perfectly safe here. My name is Brigitte O'Reilly."

Heyes took the time to look her up and down. "Well, you certainly don't look like the typical angel I'd imagine." He could tell she wasn't short, though from his reclining position he couldn't tell just how tall. She had womanly curves in all the right places but her rounded hips were covered by a pair of snug black men's trousers with a white man's shirt tucked into them, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. There was enough bare throat and arms to convince him that the freckles were only on her nose. He suddenly grinned, his dimples flashing. "Then again, I reckon Heaven ain't much interested in me. Devil didn't send ya did'e?"

"I wouldn't blame you if you thought that, Mr. Heyes, after all the pain I put you through."

"Call me Joshua, please, I'm sorta used to it. I certainly can't blame you for the pain of gettin' the bullets out, only the one who put 'em there, an' the Kid took care of him. Speakin' of the Kid, where is he?" A look of concern crossed the outlaw's face.

"He hadn't slept more than forty winks since you two got here, so Da made him go to bed once your fever broke. He's eating breakfast now."

"Figures. I never met anyone hungrier than him! He's had gunfights just to get to a meal!"

"If you're up to it you should eat something, too."

"Brigitte, I could eat a horse!"

"That won't be necessary. Just one moment, I'll go tell Mary to make up a plate for you."

Heyes sighed and closed his eyes after she had gone and felt the weariness of his entire body punctuated by the two still sore spots where he had been shot.

He must have drifted off because the next thing he heard was Kid Curry's voice at his bedside. "Heyes? Brigitte said you were awake and hungry."

He blinked his eyes back open and smiled at his partner. "Hey, Kid, looks like you pulled it off."

"_We_ pulled it off, partner," Curry retorted.

"Yeah, I guess we did."

"I brought you some breakfast. D'ya think you're strong enough t'feed yourself?"

"Do I look like a dodderin' old man who can't feed himself?" Heyes snorted.

"Yeah, actually you do."

"Just help me sit up."

Curry set down the tray he was carrying and eased his partner up and arranged the pillows to support his back. "Mary's made you some scrambled eggs an' biscuits that will melt in your mouth an' her coffee is the best I've ever tasted."

"Who's Mary?" Heyes asked as the tray was placed on his lap. His mouth watered as the delicious aromas wafted up to his nose.

"Brigitte's sister, but two more opposite you'll never meet."

"Do I detect a little spark there, Kid?" Heyes' dark eyes twinkled as he lifted a forkful of eggs to his mouth.

"There ain't been much time for sparks t'fly, Heyes, but she is pretty special."

"I'd say so if everythin' she cooks tastes this good!" Heyes applied himself to his food, finding it easy to clean his plate. The coffee was as good as the Kid had said, but even that stimulant couldn't prevent his eyes from feeling heavy. "I think I'm gonna sleep some more, Kid."

"You go ahead. Dr. O'Reilly said you'd still be doin' a lot of sleepin'." He settled the other back down.

"Kid, I had the strangest dream while I was sick," Heyes said sleepily. "I saw the most beautiful green valley, untouched by man, so peaceful and pure. I wanted to stay there, but you were calling me and I couldn't leave you. Why don't we find a place like that, to rest and wait out our amnesty? Suddenly, I'm really tired of running."

"We can talk about it when you're feelin' better, Heyes," the Kid assured him.

Too sleepy to answer, Heyes merely nodded slightly as his eyes closed.

There followed days in which Heyes mostly slept, waking for first brief, then longer and longer periods, eating and growing stronger.

It didn't take long, though, before he grew restless, too, laying in bed even though he didn't have the strength for anything else. Curry knew the signs and approached Brigitte before his partner's restlessness turned to snappy irritability.

"Heyes is frettin', Brigitte," he began. "He ain't one for just laying about. Have y'got any books? He's a great one for readin'."

"How remiss of me!" she exclaimed. "We have quite a sizable library actually. Does he prefer any type of book in particular?"

Curry smiled broadly. "If it's got words, Heyes'll read it. Pick something - - he'll like it."

Brigitte perused the books on the shelves that filled a wall in her father's study, wondering what would appeal to a reformed outlaw. Her eyes lit up when they landed on one of her favorites, Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley. "Just the thing!" she told herself.

Heyes was staring at the ceiling, a tense expression on his face, when Brigitte, book in hand, knocked on the doorframe. "Good afternoon, Joshua, are you feeling up to company?"

"Please, Brigitte! I'm goin' outta my mind here!" Heyes pushed himself up to a sitting position.

"Thaddeus thought you might be," she smiled in reply.

Heyes snorted. "Fine partner he is! Where is he anyway?"

"Last I saw him he was walking in the garden with Mary."

"Walking in the garden? Do you see just how little he cares for my feelings?"

"He suggested you might like to read a book."

"You've got a book?" The childlike excitement that lit his eyes made her smile even more.

"We have quite a few, Joshua. I asked Thaddeus what kind you might like and he said just pick anything - - that you like everything."

"At this point, he'd be right. What did you choose?"

"Have you read Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley?"

"No, don't believe I've heard of it. Mary Shelley, hmmm?"

"You aren't one of those men who think women can't have a thought in their heads beyond their husbands, children, or household chores, are you?"

"Me? No, ma'am, I assure you I know better than that! Would you read it to me - - if you've got the time, that is?"

"I'd be happy to, if that's what you'd prefer." She settled into the comfortable chair and opened the book. "This is a scary story. You're not easily frightened, are you?" she asked with a grin.

"Terribly. Will you hold my hand if I get too scared?" he tossed back.

"If you're good."

"I'm _always_ good, Brigitte."

She laughed and began to read in a dramatic voice, " ' You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings. . . "

She read until suppertime, her audience enthralled at the story unfolding. When she gently closed the book, he sighed happily. "That's a great story and you read so beautifully, but I'm a brute to have kept you reading so long!"

"No, really, it wasn't any trouble, Joshua, I enjoyed it immensely. It's delightful to share something I love with someone I . . . with someone who can appreciate it, too."

Heyes caught her slip, but tactfully let it pass. "Then you wouldn't mind reading some more tomorrow?" The pleading look in his eyes touched her heart.

"Not at all. I'll look forward to it."

Meanwhile, Kid Curry strolled through the flower garden with Mary, holding a basket in which she put the flowers she was cutting for a bouquet. They walked in a comfortable silence, enjoying the humming of the bees and the rustle of the breeze through the foliage.

"You're a very restful person to be with, Thaddeus," she commented, breaking the silence.

"_Restful?_ Me?" He laughed. "Well, Mary, that's the first time I've ever been described as restful!"

"Oh? How are you usually described?" She smiled sweetly back at him.

"Dangerous, mostly. Hot-tempered, impulsive, stubborn, I hear those a lot, too, from my partner."

"Dangerous? Because you wear that gun?"

Curry could see the puzzlement clearly in her face and realized that she hadn't been told who he and Heyes really were. Acknowledging to himself that the feelings that he felt for her were growing, he decided he had better be honest with her. Dreading the gentle girl's reaction he began, "Not just because I wear it, but how good I am with it and what I've used it for. Mary, my name isn't Thaddeus Jones, it's Kid Curry and my partner in there is Hannibal Heyes."

To his astonishment she didn't recoil from him in horror, in fact her kindly expression didn't change except for a slight lifting of her eyebrows. "So that's why you could speak so frankly to Sean about outlaws and the way they live," she mused.

"Yes, ma'am."

"And is what you told him about you and your partner true, also?"

"Yes, ma'am, we've been livin' straight now for over a year, but sometimes our past comes back to haunt us - - that's how Heyes got shot."

"Brigitte and my father know?"

"Yes, ma'am, I don't know why they didn't tell you."

"I do, for two reasons. First, they were trying to protect me from being upset. Sometimes they treat me like I'm as fragile as a china cup."

"Just lookin' at you makes me want to treat you that way, too - - you bring out the protective nature of a man."

"Well, I'm not! I'm just as strong as Brigitte; I just don't show it by riding recklessly all over the countryside and shooting and all the other things she likes to do!"

"Yes, ma'am. And what was their second reason for not tellin' you?"

"That one is understandable. The more people who know your secret the more dangerous it is for you."

"That one I can appreciate. It doesn't bother you?"

"What?"

"Knowing who we really are."

She shook her head. "Putting a new name doesn't change the person you are, Thaddeus, or who Joshua is. I feel the goodness in you both, whereas, if you were truly the horrible outlaws people say you are, I would know it."

" 'Preciate the faith, Mary," Curry replied, feeling a weight, that he hadn't even known was there, lift from his shoulders. "And may I say that I find it very peaceful in your company, too, Mary."

She dipped her head slightly in acknowledgement and they continued their stroll through the garden.

The days passed pleasantly with Heyes improving daily. Brigitte read to him every day and they enjoyed lively discussions about the stories, or the current state of affairs in the country as found in the local paper, or any of a myriad other topics. Heyes found in Brigitte an intellect as lively and curious as his own and her company caused the tedious recovery period to pass quickly.

One week after the fever had broken, Heyes was allowed out of bed to luxuriate in a hot bath and dress in a new set of clothes that Curry had bought for him- - the only items useable that he'd ridden in with were his tall boots and black hat. The brown trousers and blue shirt hung on his illness-wasted body, but he wasn't about to complain, although dressing was a slow process as he found he tired quickly and had to catch his breath on occasion.

As he leaned over to tug on a boot a cough shook him and the anxiously hovering Kid hurried over to help. Heyes waved him back. "I'm okay, Kid, I don't need to be molly-coddled!"

"Maybe you shouldn't be rushin' out of bed so soon, Heyes, you don't want a relapse!" his partner said worriedly.

"If I stay in that bed one more minute I'm goin' to kill somebody, Kid!" growled Heyes.

Grudgingly, the Kid backed off while his partner stamped into his boots, but insisted on supporting him when Heyes found his legs were as unsteady as a two-legged stool. Together they wobbled out to the front porch where the Kid deposited him in a rocking chair.

Mary pushed through the screen door, her arms laden with a heavy tray, which Curry hastened to take from her and placed it on a small table. "Thank you, Thaddeus. Joshua, it's good to see you up."

Heyes' dimples flashed and he replied, "I can't tell you how good it feels to be up!"

"I've made you boys a pot of coffee and some cookies to keep you happy until suppertime."

"Why, thank you, Mary, that was awful considerate of you," the dark-eyed outlaw said.

"Oh, it was nothing. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll get back to the kitchen."

She retreated into the house and Curry turned his blue glare on his partner. "Heyes," he growled. "Don't go turnin' your charm on Mary, else I may have to clobber you."

"What? I can't be polite?" Heyes laughed to see his teasing hit home.

"You know what I mean, Heyes."

A dust cloud moving quickly along the road away from the town cut short their squabble. "Wonder who that could be in such an all-fired hurry?" Curry mused.

"We'll soon find out," Heyes replied and both were alert, the Kid's hand instinctively moving closer to his gun.

The dust soon resolved into a horse and the sun glinting off fiery red hair identified the rider. She moved as one with the animal and as she got closer to the pair on the porch, they could see her laughing.

"Man, she can sure ride!" Heyes murmured admiringly.

The girl reined her mount down through its paces until it was walking when she rode up to the house. She tied it to the fence and leaped off. "Joshua! You're up!" she exclaimed in surprise.

"Your father said it was time to start moving around before my muscles turn to mush! Where've you been?"

"To the Lazy R ranch about five miles out of town. Mrs. Martin is feeling a little peckish so someone needed to deliver some medicine. My poor Shamrock there hadn't been ridden since I've been tending you, so I volunteered to take it and kill two birds with one stone."

"Three," Heyes contradicted her.

"What?"

"You've been just as cooped up as the horse."

"Oh. Well, yes, but I can understand why, while poor Shamrock just felt neglected."

"I bet my mare can beat that old plug of yours!"

"Ha! Easy for you to say when you can't back it up!"

"Oh, I can't, can I? Just you wait 'til I can ride again, then we'll see who can't back it up."

"It's a race, but not until you're fully recovered!"

Curry had watched the interchange with an amused smile, but at the mention of Heyes' recovery he suddenly spoke up. "Heyes was coughin' again as he was gettin' dressed." Heyes shot him a dark look, which he ignored. "I thought the pneumonia was gone."

"Oh, it is, but his body still has to clear out that lung and the only way is by coughing. Moving around now a bit is the best thing so that what's left can loosen up and be expelled, so some coughing is good and to be expected. Gradually it will stop completely."

"See, Kid? You worry too much."

"Well, can I help it if I've had a lot of practice at it lately?" Curry snapped back but greatly relieved that his partner wasn't heading for a relapse.

"I've got to go take care of Shamrock, boys, play nicely while I'm gone!" the red-haired girl quipped as she dashed away.

"I notice you been spendin' considerable time with Brigitte," Curry commented figuring it was his turn to tease.

"Yeah, she took pity on me since my heartless partner couldn't be bothered!" Heyes retorted untruthfully since the Kid had spent many hours distracting him with cards and games of checkers.

"I don't think pity had anythin' to do with it, Heyes, an' I didn't hear you complainin' none 'bout her company."

"Why would I? She's bright, well-read, can carry on an intelligent conversation . . ."

"Not to mention pretty," the Kid added to Heyes' list of Brigitte's qualities.

"No, she ain't hard on the eyes, neither," the other admitted. "She's got some pretty liberated ideas, though, like thinkin' women oughta be able to vote an' hold public office.

"Why not? Lettin' women vote couldn't hurt and lettin' 'em hold public office might make the country a more peaceable place."

"Well, if they were all as intelligent as Brigitte, maybe."

"Heyes, how many men you know less smart than you who vote an' hold office? Plenty, right?"

"Yeah, what's your point?"

"Why y'gonna hold women to higher standards?"

Heyes looked at his partner in surprise. "You been doin' some thinkin' on this, Kid?"

"Nah, just seems common sense to me."

"Hmm."

Kid's sharp eyes caught sight of another rider coming, this time from the direction of the town. "Company's comin', Heyes."

"Is that who I think it is, Kid?" Heyes asked directing his gaze at the rider who was almost at the house.

"If it ain't, it's his twin," the Kid replied.

All doubt was erased when the rider pulled up to the fence and they got a close up look at the serious older man with the black moustache.

"Lom!" Heyes shouted happily his face split by a huge grin. "What brings you here all the way from Porterville?"

"Howdy, Heyes, Kid," the sheriff greeted stepping down from his horse and coming up the walk to where the two outlaws sat. "Kid's telegraph is what brought me."

"Yeah, I sent a telegraph tellin' Lom where we were and that you'd been hurt bad," Curry explained.

" 'Preciate your concern, Lom, but you didn't need to come all this way for me."

"Well, to be honest, Heyes, it wasn't just for you." The sheriff's glance flicked Curry's way.

Heyes caught the glance. "Ah! What was your other reason?"

"It was what else the Kid said in the telegraph."

Heyes' smile shrank a bit. "Which was?" he prodded his friend.

"The Kid told me to tell the governor to expect a visit from him if you died!"

Heyes lost his smile completely and stared in shock at his partner. "You _threatened _the governor, Kid?"

Curry had the grace to look uncomfortable. "Well, not in so many words, Heyes."

"What else would the governor think? Why else would Kid Curry be droppin' in? A spot of tea maybe?" the outlaw leader's voice rose slightly.

"I _told_ you, Heyes, I'd be right behind you if you died, an' if I could take the governor, who's been draggin' his feet on our amnesty, along with me so much the better!" the Kid defended himself, his voice also rising.

"Well, I guess you meant it! Jeez, Kid, the _governor_!"

"Boys, boys, there's no need to fight," Lom soothed. "You're still alive, Heyes, though you look like death warmed over."

"Thanks, Lom," Heyes replied wryly.

"What were y'plannin' t'do, Lom, get in my way?" the Kid asked in his most dangerous voice.

"If that's what it took to stop you, Kid."

"I would've been sorry to have had t'kill you, Lom."

The two locked gazes for a long moment each judging the other's strength of will. At last Lom sighed, "Well, I'm glad it didn't come to that, Kid."

"Me, too, Lom."

"Heyes, try to be more careful," the sheriff growled.

"I'll do my best, Lom, y'got my word on that. Have a cookie?" With his best wide-eyed innocent look, Heyes held up the plate of cookies.

"Don't mind if I do. I've hardly been able to eat or sleep worrying so much."

"Have a seat, Lom," Curry stood and offered his chair.

"Thanks, Kid." With another sigh, the sheriff sat and stretched his legs out. "I'm gettin' too old for this!"

"For chasin' after the Kid an' me maybe, Lom, but not for the run-of-the-mill riff-raff you usually have to deal with," Heyes teased.

The sheriff merely snorted in reply.

"Supper's just about ready, boys," Brigitte announced, stepping through the door. "Oh! We have company?"

"Brigitte, this is our friend, Sheriff Lom Trevors of Porterville, Wyoming. Lom, Brigitte O'Reilly. She's the one who dug the bullets outta me."

Lom stood and tipped his hat. "My pleasure, ma'am. I'm beholden to you for saving this reprobate's life; you've done more of a service than you know."

"It was a group effort, Mr. Trevors," she replied modestly. "You're a long way from home."

"Well, ma'am, when I got Mr. Jones' telegraph about Mr. Smith being seriously hurt, I had to come."

"That's awfully kind. You must be very good friends."

"Yeah, we go back a long ways," the Kid put in. "By the way, Lom, Brigitte and her family know who we are."

"Oh, well, that makes it easier."

"Lom is the one who talked to the governor for us about amnesty, Brigitte," Heyes explained.

"Yeah, who knows where we'd be now if he hadn't," the Kid added with a wry twist to his lips.

"Well, supper's getting cold. You'll join us won't you, Mr. Trevors?"

"Much obliged, ma'am. I haven't had a decent hot meal since Oakton. And the name's Lom."

The Kid helped Heyes out of the rocker, drawing one of his partner's arms across his shoulders to support his weight. Lom stepped forward and took Heyes' other arm across his shoulders.

"Damn, Heyes, you're nothin' but skin an' bones!" the sheriff exclaimed. "You must've really been bad off!"

"Anyone else would have died, Lom," Brigitte said somberly.

"Didja get the sidewinder that done it?"

"I got 'im, Lom," Curry replied quietly.

The two locked eyes again over Heyes' head and this time Lom nodded after a moment saying, "Good."

Brigitte led the way to the kitchen where Lom was introduced to the rest of the O'Reilly clan. Mary decided the kitchen table was too small for them all and directed Brigitte and Sean to set the dining room table.

In a very short order they were all seated, passing steaming bowls and platters of food around.

"Well, if you keep gettin' meals like this, Heyes, you'll soon be fattened up," Lom commented. "This is delicious, Mary."

Mary blushed prettily and replied, "Thank you, Lom."

"Have you a place to stay yet, sheriff?" Dr. O'Reilly asked.

"No, I came directly here."

"Then you'll be staying here with us and I'll not be taking no for an answer! We've plenty of room and we couldn't turn away any friends of Thaddeus and Joshua."

"Well, if you're sure it ain't an inconvenience, I'd be obliged."

"No inconvenience at all," Mary put in. "It's a joy to have the house filled."

Over coffee, Lom regaled the O'Reilly's with the story of Heyes and Curry coming to him with the idea of going for amnesty with the two outlaws filling in details, or making corrections, along the way. He had a way with a story that had them all laughing.

As the laughter died down, Curry's sharp eyes caught the slight tightening in his partner's eyes and the light sheen of perspiration across his brow.

"You in pain, Heyes?" he demanded.

"It's nothin', Kid," Heyes denied. "Just a mite tired is all. A dose of the good doctor's whiskey would fix me right up."

"You're absolutely right, young man, and I'm being remiss in my duties as host! I'll fetch it."

Within moments he was back and pouring double shots of whiskey for each of the men. Heyes tossed off half of his in one swallow, his eyes closing as the fiery liquid spread its warmth down his throat and into his stomach.

"Still the best whiskey I've ever tasted, Doc," he sighed in satisfaction.

"Once you've finished, Joshua, you are to return to bed; you've had quite enough excitement for your first day up and about." The doctor ordered.

"Okay, Doc." Two more swallows and he set the glass down. "I'll say good night then, everyone. Thanks for comin', Lom, it really means a lot."

"I'm glad my trip had a happier conclusion than I anticipated, Heyes."

"Me, too."

"Likewise, Lom," the Kid added, rising to help Heyes to his feet.

By the time they got to his room, Heyes was putting most of his weight on the Kid and it was with a tremendous sigh that he stretched out on the bed. "I hate bein' so weak, Kid!"

"Well, y'gotta not push it, Heyes! It takes time to come back from death's door!" Curry growled and gave his partner a disapproving glare as he worked on pulling off Heyes' boots.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Heyes paused and began unbuttoning his shirt. "Kid?"

"Hmm?"

"_Would _you have killed Lom?"

Curry met his partner's serious dark eyes with his own. "I don't know, Heyes. Maybe I'd'a let him kill me instead."

"That would'a been a fine thing to do to a friend!" Heyes said sarcastically.

"Yeah, well, I'm glad it didn't come to that."

"Me, too, Kid."

Stripped to his longjohns, Heyes laid back against the pillow. "G'night, Kid."

"G'night, Heyes."

Lom stayed for a week happy to see Heyes growing stronger daily. By the time he left the outlaw was able to walk on his own with only a slight limp and color was returning to his pallid cheeks.

The night before he left they all relaxed on the porch, the four men smoking cigars, and the conversation desultory as they mostly enjoyed each other's company in the cool evening air.

"How long do you expect to be here, Heyes?" Lom queried.

"I guess that'll be up to the doctor, Lom," Heyes replied taking a thoughtful draw on his cigar. "To tell you the truth, though, I ain't in much of a hurry to leave."

"Nor should you even consider it for at least another two weeks and then only if you have pressing need to be elsewhere," Dr. O'Reilly admonished.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you like," Brigitte said.

"The Kid an' I don't like to impose on your hospitality."

"Oh, it's no imposition at all!" Mary hurriedly put in. "We enjoy your company."

"We're already beholden to you for everything you've done for us, especially for Heyes," the Kid put his two cents in.

"Nonsense! I won't hear another word about it until Joshua is fully recovered and I will be the judge of that!" Dr. O'Reilly settled the matter.

After several minutes of silence, Heyes said, "I've had a lot of time lately to do some thinkin'. Kid, remember what I asked you comin' down the pass?"

Curry thought a moment. "You asked me if I ever regretted goin' for amnesty."

"Right, an' that's what I've been thinkin' about, weighin' both sides, an' to be honest the disadvantages seem to outweigh the advantages."

"Heyes, you ain't thinkin' about hittin' the outlaw trail again, are you?" Lom asked, aghast.

"Now, hold on, Lom, hear me out! No, I ain't considerin' goin' back to outlawin', but atleast with the Devil's Hole gang we had a home, even though it wasn't much! What've the Kid an' I had since? Cold camps on the trail, or one flea-bitten hotel room after another, never knowin' from one day to the next where we'd be! No steady job an' sometimes too poor for one meal between us! That's what drove us to become outlaws in the first place, Lom, an' here we are tryin' to go straight an' back as bad off as we were then! Would you be so very surprised if robbin' a bank didn't start to sound good?"

The sheriff chewed on his cigar thoughtfully. The Kid just waited knowing this was Heyes' way of gearing up to something important. "Nobody said it would be easy, Heyes," Lom finally replied.

"No, no, they didn't," the outlaw agreed. "But they also didn't say it would be this hard an' for that I've got mostly myself to blame."

"C'mon, Heyes," Curry protested. "I've been with you all the way in this!"

"Yeah, I know, Kid, but I'm supposed to be so smart at plannin' - - didn't I plan every job down to the last detail? Wasn't that why we were so good at what we did?"

"That's right. So?"

"So what happened to all that plannin' ability? I shoulda made a plan for this goin' for amnesty, instead we just jumped in without a thought of what came next! Well, I've been puttin' a lot of thought lately into what comes next."

"I take it you've come up with something?"

Heyes nodded. "It ain't fully fleshed out yet, but it's a start."

"Well, y'gonna tell us?" Lom prodded impatiently.

"Hold on, I'm gettin' there. I thought a lot about your answer, Kid, an' how I ain't been fair to you, or considered your feelin's, just draggin' you around cuz I'm the restless sort!"

"Y'ain't heard me complainin', have ya? I know the longer we stay in one place the more we risk bein' recognized."

"Yeah, in a _town_, Kid! An' what can we _do_ in a town? Play poker. Banks ain't gonna hire us even after our amnesty, the trust just ain't gonna be there. I can't see you, Kid, in the dry goods store. We done pretty good managin' Mary Cunningham's saloon, but every troublemaker, or wannabe big shot gunslinger, comes through a saloon an' someday, Kid, somebody's gonna be faster'n you an' I don't wanna see you gunned down!"

"Oh, like I enjoyed seein' _you_ gunned down, Heyes!" Curry snorted.

"Exactly, Kid! Which brings me to that dream I had, about the valley, remember?"

Curry nodded.

"Let's find that valley, or one like it, and build a place of our own - - a _home _of our own where we can be safe until the governor figgers we've earned our amnesty"

"What dream was this?" Brigitte interrupted having been listening with great interest to this interchange.

Heyes recounted his dream to his listeners, which was still as vivid in his mind as it had been when he first woke up.

"I know that place!" Brigitte exclaimed when he finished and everyone stared at her in surprise. "Well, not _that _place exactly, but certainly like enough as doesn't matter."

"Where?" Heyes' eyes glowed with excitement.

"Half a day's hard ride south east, or a full day's easy ride and an overnight stay in your current condition," she said.

"You'll not be taking any such long rides for another week, Joshua, so don't go getting any fancy ideas!" Dr. O'Reilly scolded.

Sensing his partner's frustration and impatience, Curry tried to soothe him. "It'll still be there in another week, Heyes. Why don't you tell us what you had in mind for us to do in this valley?"

"That's what ain't fleshed out yet, Kid. Build a ranch, I guess," he shrugged.

"Didn't we avoid ranch work unless it was the only possible work we could get, Heyes?"

"Yep, we did, Kid, but maybe it would be different if it was our own, if we was our own bosses. Anyway, there ain't gonna be no way to avoid workin' at _somethin'_."

"Yeah, but _cows _? Plumb stupid animals if'n y'ask me!" the Kid said in disgust.

Brigitte leaned forward, a look of excitement in her eyes. "What about horses?"

"What?" the two outlaws asked in unison.

"Forget cows. How about a horse ranch? You know horses don't you?"

"Yeah, we've ridden our share an' broke a few, but the start up costs for a string of good horses is more than for cattle," Heyes replied doubtfully.

"That's the beauty of it," she exclaimed. "The valley I'm thinking of is range to a herd of wild horses! Pick the best of them for your start up stock and maybe bring in a pureblood or two for improvement purposes and there you go - - minimum cash investment!"

"Hmm," Heyes rubbed his chin while he pondered this idea.

"Gotta admit, Heyes, horses are a mite more intelligent than cows an' more valuable, too," Curry put in.

"Sounds like a right good plan, boys," Lom approved. "It'll keep you too busy to get into more trouble!"

Excitement lit Heyes' face. "Brigitte, you're brilliant!" Impulsively he leaned over and kissed her to the applause of everyone else.

"Just don't forget it!" she replied tartly to cover her blushes at the attention.

"Never," he promised.

"Never knew you to move so slow, Heyes," the Kid teased later when they were alone getting ready for bed. Curry had insisted on giving Lom his room rather than any of the O'Reilly's being put upon to share.

"Blame it on my weakened condition, Kid," Heyes replied, not pretending to misunderstand.

"Told you she was out there," Curry said smugly.

"Oh, she meets with your approval, does she? Since when do I need that?"

"You don't, but I'm givin' it anyway."

"How's everythin' with you an' Mary?" Heyes decided to try his own teasing, but Curry didn't rise to the bait.

"Mary's somethin' special, Heyes," was all he said with a small smile.

Chapter Three

Lom left the next morning with a firm handshake for Heyes and Curry eliciting a promise from them to drop by Porterville when they were in the neighborhood.

The following days passed peacefully with the doctor allowing Heyes more and more activity as his strength increased. First there were quiet strolls - - wisely not into town in case by some bad luck they were recognized - - and then short, sedate rides which turned to longer, less sedate gallops until Heyes no longer felt more than a pull from the scars.

One afternoon resting on the back porch after a breath-taking gallop, Heyes and Mary watched in amusement as the Kid taught Brigitte the basics of the quick draw. He had been reluctant, but she had badgered him until Heyes had finally said, "C'mon, Kid, what's it gonna hurt? I doubt she's gonna go into the gunslingin' business!"

"She might get faster than you, Heyes, then you'll be in trouble!"

"I reckon I can handle woman problems without resortin' to gunplay, Kid," he had scoffed.

"On your head be it then."

So Brigitte had strapped on Heyes' gunbelt and the Kid demonstrated the proper moves. At first he drew slowly so she could copy him, then at full speed so she could see the smooth flow, although at the Kid's speed anything was difficult to see except the sudden appearance of the gun in his hand.

After watching for some time, Heyes turned to look at the girl beside him, appreciating the creamy complexion, shiny dark hair, and pretty profile, but then in his mind's eye the complexion picked up freckles, the hair became fire and the nose on the profile took on a pert uplift. Man, you've got it bad, Heyes! He shook his head.

"You're good for the Kid, Mary," he stated baldly.

She turned her sky blue eyes to him and smile quizzically. "In what way, Joshua?"

"You calm him. I can tell he's at peace in your company."

"Perhaps you're just noticing that he's relaxed now you're well again."

"No, it's more than that. When you've been together as long as we have you can read each other like a book. He may feel _safe_ with me, like I do with him, but not at peace."

"Does he need this peace so much?"

"The Kid is very sensitive and, like I told Brigitte, the gentlest person I know. Not what you'd expect for a gunslinger, right? Well, he became that person to protect himself, and me, from being hurt anymore."

"Anymore?" Mary asked curiously.

"Our parents, our whole families, were murdered by Quantrill's raiders after the war. Then we were tossed into a horrible orphanage. He was still in shock and was angry and defiant, not completely understanding what had happened and feeling guilty, too, because he had survived, so he got punished a lot. I covered for him as much as I could, tried to take some of the blame when he got into trouble, tried to keep him out of trouble, but it was still pretty hard on him."

"You didn't share those feelings of anger and guilt?"

"Yeah, well, I was older so I had to take responsibility."

"How old were you?"

"About twelve, I guess."

"A wee bit young for that much responsibility, don't you think?"

"Somebody had to, especially when we ran away. Jed, that's his real name, was still feelin' lost, confused. It was soon after we left he got hold of his first gun and it was like he had found a missing piece of his body! He practiced relentlessly, obsessively - - still does as a matter of fact - - until it became an extension of his arm. I questioned him once about how wise it was and all he said was, 'ain't gonna let nobody hurt us again!' He's done real well at it, too, considerin' the hazards in our line of business. That's why he's taken it personal me gettin' almost killed like this."

"You carry a gun, too."

"Yeah, plumb foolishness not to, an' I'm good with it, too, but the Kid's the _best_! To me, a gun's just a necessary tool, to the Kid it's a piece of him."

They watched the quick draw practice a little more in silence, Heyes really more lost in memories. "So you see, Mary," he said when he broke the silence. "Why feelin' peaceful with you is good for the Kid. I'm glad you can give him that - - the one thing I could never give him."

"Don't you need it, too?"

"Me? Yes, but in a different way, see, I'm the restless sort . . . "

Laughter from Brigitte and the Kid stopped him from continuing as the two joined them on the porch.

"Heyes' gun ain't right for you, Brigitte; y'oughta get one of your own," the Kid was saying.

"I wouldn't begin to know what to buy, Kid, would you help me?" Brigitte's eyes were alight with excitement.

"It would be my pleasure, but y'gotta promise not to practice when Sean is around - - I don't want him gettin' ideas," Curry admonished.

"Nor do I."

"Tomorrow mornin' then we'll saunter down to the mercantile an' get you outfitted."

"Deal!"

"So what you two been doin'?" the Kid queried.

"We've been having an interesting conversation, Thaddeus," Mary replied.

The blond outlaw rolled his eyes. "Heyes ain't been talkin' your ear off, has he? Cuz y'get 'im started an' sometimes there just ain't no stoppin' 'im!"

"_Some _people actually enjoy talkin', Kid," Heyes protested.

"I sure know _you_ do!" Curry retorted.

"Now, boys, don't bicker," Mary scolded gently.

"So what's your professional opinion on Brigitte's possibilities, Kid?" Heyes asked, changing the subject.

"She's actually got possibilities, Heyes. She's a natural and had she started younger when her reflexes were at their best, I'd say she could've been darn good!"

"High praise indeed," Heyes remarked with a grin.

" 'Course we ain't seen if she can actually _hit_ anythin' yet, we've just been dry-firin' today to get the speed," the Kid qualified. "After we get her her own rig, we'll work on that."

"How far you plan on goin' with this, Brigitte?" the dark haired outlaw asked.

"As far as I can, Joshua," the pretty redhead replied.

"Brigitte thrives on this kind of thing," Mary said in a long-suffering tone. "Mother was always at her wit's end with Brigitte, trying to make a lady of her when all she wanted was to be a boy! It amused Da, and her being the first he spoiled her rotten."

"Did not!" Brigitte retorted.

"Finally they made an agreement that Brigitte could wear boy's clothes at home, but girl's clothes in public. Now she'll only put on a dress for church!"

The object of this diatribe threw her booted feet onto the porch railing as she leaned back in her chair and snorted. "I guess God made a mistake; I should have been a boy."

"Brigitte, that's blasphemy! God doesn't make mistakes!" the dark haired girl gasped in shock.

"Tush!" the other girl snorted again.

"Well, _I'm_ glad you're not a boy," Heyes intervened. "An' I never seen men's pants filled out prettier! An' as smart as you are, you'd've kept me on my toes to stay leader of the Devil's Hole Gang, an' with Kid's speed, why you'd've just put us right out of business! Don't you think, Kid?"

"Yup, an' she'd'a been more'n a mite easier on the eyes, too!" Curry smiled.

"You two are encouraging her!" Mary protested.

"You see, Mary, _somebody_ appreciates me!"

"I wouldn't change a thing about you, Brigitte," Heyes told her seriously.

Sean came running around the side of the house, carelessly tossing his schoolbooks onto the porch. "Thaddeus, remember you promised to show me more about lassoing today!"

"I remember. Ain't you got schoolwork to do?" the Kid replied with an attempt at a serious frown that immediately became a smile.

"Yeah, but I always do it after supper," the boy said.

"Alright, go get your rope."

As the boy ran off, Heyes quirked an eyebrow at his partner. "My, my, you're quite in demand as a teacher today. Maybe you missed your calling."

"Long as it don't involve books, Heyes," shot back his partner as he walked towards the barn.

"I'd better get supper on," Mary said standing. "You two, behave!"

"Behave? Whatever did she mean by that?" the dark eyed outlaw grinned as the door closed behind the other girl.

"She's afraid I'll be a bad influence on you," Brigitte teased.

"I'm already a wanted man, how much further astray could you lead me?"

"How much further would you like to go?"

"With you? All the way." Heyes' eyes stared deeply into hers as he moved closer and claimed her lips with his own, feeling her warm response.

A loud "harrumph!" from behind broke them apart guiltily. "Mary said you two were out here unchaperoned!" Dr. O'Reilly said. "It seems I have arrived just it time!"

"I assure you, sir, my intentions towards your daughter are completely honorable!"

"I'm not worried about _her_, my boy, she's scared more suitors away than I can count! No, it's you I'm concerned about. Brigitte can be a handful."

"Da!" she protested.

"I think I'm up to the challenge, sir," Heyes replied with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Yes, I suspect you might be, having led a successful band of outlaws."

"Knowing that, I'm surprised you haven't warned me off with a shotgun!"

"Yes, well, I don't believe in judging a man by his past, for every man makes mistakes. More important is his character, the quality of his heart, his present and his future. I believe I've seen your character, Joshua, and I know I've seen your heart - - Thaddeus', too - - and two better men I've never met, and I've known men of great social stature!"

"I hardly know what to say to that, sir, an' the Kid will tell you I'm rarely at a loss for words."

"No need to say anything, my boy. I'm grateful to you and Thaddeus, your coming here made me take a good hard look at myself and what I'd let myself become over a mistake I had made, and I didn't like what I saw. I have been sober since you arrived and, although I can never do surgery again, I _can_ be a good doctor in all other ways. I'm forever in your debt. Well, carry on, I'll be about my business," he said with a broad wink as he left.

Heyes stared after the doctor, his mind trying to come to grips with what he'd heard. "May I know what mistake he was talkin' about?"

"Surely. Thaddeus already knows." Brigitte quietly recounted the story ending with, "He's never forgiven himself, but it seems he's at last found he can move on."

Heyes sat pondering for several moments before answering. "I've never killed anyone, Brigitte. Maybe I'm too scared, or maybe I'm too cruel preferrin' those I'm punishin' to live an' suffer longer, but I've seen men killed, seen the Kid kill a couple that deserved killin' an' I know it's nothin' to take lightly. Your father didn't intend to kill that man an' I'm glad he's decided he's punished himself long enough. I have to say, though, that I'm grateful for _your_ steady hands. Come here and let me thank you properly."

Their lips had barely touched when Sean came running pell mell shouting, "I did it! I did it! I lassoed the cow!" Thaddeus followed behind coiling the rope with a grin on his face.

"A train station would be more private than your back porch, Brigitte!" Heyes commented in disgust.

The next morning the two couples walked Sean to the schoolhouse, the boy beaming because Heyes had helped him write his essay on the causes and effects of the Civil War, earning a 'now who's the teacher?' look from the Kid.

From the schoolhouse they proceeded to the mercantile, drawing curious glances from the townspeople as they went.

"They've heard we had a seriously injured patient," Mary explained.  
"They're all curious to see you."

"Hopefully none of them will be too curious, particularly the sheriff," Heyes growled.

"Sheriff Trevors told me he was going to put in a good word for you with Sheriff Taylor, so I'm sure you won't have any trouble with him," Brigitte added.

Thankfully they were the only customers in the general store and the shopkeeper greeted them with a smile. "Good morning, Brigitte, Mary, how can I help you today?" He managed to cast a questioning look the two outlaws' way, not missing their tied down six-guns.

"Good morning, Mr. Collins," Brigitte replied brightly. "I'd like you to meet Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones. Mr. Smith has been convalescing at our home these past weeks."

"Well, welcome to Coldwater, gentlemen, I'm glad Dr. O'Reilly was able to get you back on your feet, Mr. Smith."

"Thank you, I don't believe I could have received better care anywhere," Heyes replied.

"Mr. Jones and I would like to look at the handguns you have in stock, Mr. Collins, while Mr. Smith and Mary will be gathering supplies for a camping trip."

"Certainly. Let me call Mrs. Collins to help with the supplies and then I'll show you what I have."

Mrs. Collins was a lively middle-aged woman with slightly graying blond hair and sharp eyes that didn't miss the fact that the town's two eligible doctor's daughters were in her store with two handsome young men.

"Well, Mary, Brigitte, I haven't seen either of you for quite some time!" she exclaimed in a voice that hinted at wanting to know all the details.

"We've been a wee bit busy, Mrs. Collins," Brigitte replied knowing what the other woman wanted. "This is Joshua Smith who has been recovering from a life threatening injury and his friend, Thaddeus Jones."

"It's a real pleasure, ma'am," Heyes said, tipping his hat and giving the woman his most charming dimpled smile.

"Likewise, ma'am," the Kid said, turning the full force of his innocent baby blue eyes on the woman.

"Oh, my, what perfectly charming young men," Mrs. Collins simpered, blushing. "How long do you expect to grace our small town?"

"Actually, ma'am, we're considerin' startin' a spread in the area, so you may see quite a lot of us in the future," Heyes replied.

"Well, wouldn't that be delightful! Now what can I do for you today?"

"I have a list right here."

The outlaw leader gave the list to the shopkeeper's wife who immediately bustled them away to gather up the supplies.

"Now we can look at your handguns, Mr. Collins," Brigitte got back to business.

"I haven't a lot in stock, not much call for them," the shopkeeper began. "That's a right nice piece you have there, Mr. Jones, I could give you a good trade in price if you're buying a new one."

"Thanks, but I'm not buying - - it's Brigitte we're shopping for," the Kid replied.

"Oh!" The man frowned. "Does your father know you're buying a handgun, Brigitte?"

"Indeed he does, Mr. Collins, and he heartily approves. However, I _am_ of age and don't really need his approval, now do I?" she replied archly.

"No, no, of course not! Here, let me show you what I have."

He took down several boxes and opened them on the counter so the two could see their contents.

Expertly Curry picked up each gun and examined it with a critical eye and gave each an experimental twirl or two. He rejected two outright as too heavy for her, one as being too fancy for serious gunwork, which left two that he approved of. "Either of these two would suit you, I think, Brigitte."

The girl picked each one up as the Kid had and hefted them, cocking them, and taking imaginary aim. She laid them both down on the counter and pondered.

"This one," she finally said, picking the Colt .45 with blued muzzle and dark wooden grips, rejecting the flashier silver looking gun with ivory grips.

Curry nodded approvingly at her choice of the more serviceable looking gun. "Good choice, Brigitte, you have good instincts. She'll also need a holster and gunbelt."

Shortly she was fitted with a black gunbelt and a holster that tied down. She settled the gun into the holster and twirled as if showing off a new dress. "What do you think, Joshua?"

"I think I've never seen a more attractively displayed piece of hardware!" Heyes replied.

"Honestly, Brigitte!" Mary sighed, but refrained from further comment.

Mrs. Collins looked properly scandalized.

"We'll also need ammunition," the Kid told the shopkeeper.

Laden with their purchases, the two couples began the trek back home, only to be approached by a tall, imposing man of about fifty wearing a shiny tin star.

"Good morning, Sheriff Taylor!" Brigitte greeted him brightly. "I was going to drop into your office as we passed by to introduce you to our guests, Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones. I believe Sheriff Trevors mentioned them to you.

"Mr. Smith, Mr. Jones," the older man nodded, acknowledging the introduction. "Yes, he did, Brigitte. I understand from Sheriff Trevors that you two boys have done some work for him and the governor of Wyoming."

'Yeah, well, we do like to stay on the good side of the governor, sheriff!" Heyes smiled, uncomfortable this close to the law.

"He also said you might be considerin' settlin' down in our area here."

"It is a serious consideration, sheriff," the Kid agreed.

"Well, if I can be of any help, you boys just let me know."

"Thanks, sheriff, we'll do that," Heyes assured him.

"Oh, by the way, sheriff, we'll be doing some target practice," Brigitte announced. "Just so you don't get concerned when you hear gunshots. Mr. Jones is teaching me to shoot a six-gun."

"Really?" He took in the three tied down guns. "You expect to be needin' that?"

"No, I just wanted to learn and Mr. Jones was kind enough to agree to teach me."

"Pretty good, are you, Mr. Jones?"

"Fair. I can usually hit what I'm aimin' for," Curry replied modestly.

"Well, don't be surprised if Miss Brigitte soon outshoots you - - she already does most men in this valley with a rifle!"

"I'll keep that in mind, sheriff."

"I'd best be lettin' you get on your way. Nice meetin' you, boys."

"Likewise, sheriff."

Both outlaws breathed audible sighs of relief once they were far enough away.

"Do you think we'll ever be comfortable around the law, Joshua? Even when we get our amnesty?"

"Beats me, Thaddeus. I guess it'll take some time for the wariness to wear off," Heyes speculated.

"I hope not too long, cuz it ain't good for my nerves!"

"I suspect Sheriff Taylor would be even more nervous if he knew he had a nervous Kid Curry to worry about!" Heyes teased.

"Well, I, for one, couldn't see any nervousness showing," Brigitte told them.

"Nor could I," Mary agreed. "Although I could feel it so strong I'm surprised it didn't show on _my_ face!"

They finished the walk home without any further incidents. Heyes took the bundles of supplies into the house and helped Mary put them away, making a separate pile of what they would need for their next day's journey to Brigitte's valley. Meanwhile, the Kid and Brigitte rustled up tin cans to set up for targets.

"You're a very tolerant man, Joshua," Mary commented as she put the items away that he handed her.

"In what way, Mary?"

"Most men would be put off by Brigitte, her way of dressing, wanting to learn to shoot, and _wear_,a pistol, and her many other unladylike habits and ideas. Many have been, in fact."

"I ain't most men, Mary," replied the outlaw. "Y'know, comin' down into the valley the Kid was tellin' me the qualities he expected the right woman for me to have an' I told him such a girl as he described didn't exist, but, lo an' behold, there's Brigitte with them all! Well," he paused looking down and suddenly seeming much younger and less confident. " 'Cept maybe the last one."

"Which was?"

"No, I best not say, might jinx it. Just have to wait and see. If you'll excuse me, Mary, I think I'll go help 'em set up the targets.

"The first couple of loads will be to get the feel of the gun - - does it pull right, or left, high or low - - that way you can make adjustments to your aim." Heyes stood quietly behind listening to the Kid give last minute pointers. "We're not going to work on the draw right now - - just hitting the targets."

"Whatever you say, Kid."

Curry stood behind the girl and kept his sharp eyes on the first can as she squeezed the trigger. A puff of dirt high and to the left indicated where the bullet hit, leaving the can unharmed.

"Okay, you saw that? It's pulling left and high. Next shot aim lower and to the right," he coached.

Following his instructions, she squeezed off the next shot and the can flew into the air! "I got it!" she exclaimed in excitement.

"Good job. Now remember where you aimed and go for the next four in a row."

Aiming and firing as quickly as she could, Brigitte hit three out of her next four shots.

"Not bad; not bad at all," the Kid nodded approvingly.

"I'll reset your cans," Heyes offered, stepping forward.

"Did you see, Joshua?" She turned her bright eyes on him.

"I did see an' I'm impressed. Maybe with practice you can take the Kid's place watchin' my back - - he's gettin' a little old," the outlaw said with a sly wink.

"Old?" Curry exclaimed indignantly. "Heyes, you set up those cans an' I'll show you who's old!"

Chuckling, Heyes did as he was told and returned to the firing line. "Okay, partner, show us what y'got."

In the beat of a heart, Curry's gun leapt into his hand and he fanned the hammer so quickly the shots were indistinguishable from each other and six cans flew into the air!

"Wow!" Brigitte breathed, her eyes as big as saucers. "That was incredible!"

"Y'still say I'm gettin' old, Heyes?"

"Maybe y'got a few more years in ya," the other replied with a grin.

"Thanks, Heyes, you're too kind," Curry replied sarcastically.

"Could I get that good?" Brigitte asked,

"I hope not," the Kid sighed.

"Why not?" she demanded.

"I wouldn't curse anyone I like with a reputation as a fast gun, Brigitte, it only brings grief. It just nearly cost me my best friend's life." The Kid's face was stern and somber.

"C'mon, Kid, your speed with the gun has saved both our lives more often than not!" Heyes clapped his partner on the shoulder.

"Yeah, but you can only die once, Heyes, an' my speed can't bring you back!"

"Brigitte ain't gonna go around callin' people out, Kid, are ya, Brigitte?"

"Of course not,Thaddeus, don't worry!"

"Yeah, that's supposed to be _my_ job, remember?"

"I know, but I've kinda had to do it for both of us lately. Besides, strappin' on a gun tells people of a certain stripe that you're willin' to use it."

"I promise I won't go strutting through town wearing it. I'll only wear it when I ride alone, or when I'm with you boys. How's that? You have to admit, don't you, that a girl ought to be able to protect herself."

"Yeah, I guess, if she's gonna be racin' about the country unescorted," Curry admitted reluctantly. "Too late to undo what y've learned anyway."

"Thank you, Thaddeus, I won't let you down!" Impulsively she hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm going to set up the targets!"

While she raced down to perform that chore, Heyes shook his head and said, "You're such a soft touch, Kid."

"_Me_? Who's right there with her bullyin' me to give in?" Curry protested indignantly. "I'm tellin' ya, Heyes, you're gonna have your hands full with her!"

"I thought you approved, Kid?"

"Oh, I do! Though I doubt boredom will ever be a problem with you two!"

"You're talkin' like it's a fact she'd have me."

"Heyes, if you put your charm and silver tongue to work the Queen of England'd have you!" Curry scoffed.

"Yeah? But would I have _her_? I'm a bit choosy, y'know," Heyes laughed.

Brigitte walked back to the firing line and began reloading her gun.

"I think you've got the basics down, Brigitte, so I'm gonna leave Heyes here to supervise. I don't think he can mess you up too much!" Curry told her.

"Here now, I may be slower'n you, but I can hit what I'm aimin' at as good as you, Kid!"

"Sure, you keep tellin' yourself that, Heyes!"

The rest of the morning Heyes and Brigitte drilled tin cans, her aim and confidence growing steadily.

After lunch, Dr. O'Reilly insisted Heyes take a nap. When he began to protest, the doctor said, "You're not at full strength yet, boyo, and it's against my better judgement your journey tomorrow, so you'll be napping today if you expect to ride tomorrow!"

Sighing in defeat, Heyes gave in with a muttered, "I probably won't be able to sleep a wink."

Contrary to his belief, he hadn't read more than a paragraph in his latest book before he was sound asleep.

Curry and the two girls used the afternoon to pack the necessities for the next day's journey.

The next day dawned with the promise of good weather, though the morning chill as the horses were saddled required jackets.

Sean practically danced with excitement as he scurried around fetching and carrying for the four adults. He was being allowed to come to lend some semblance of propriety to two unmarried couples spending a night alone in the mountains. Brigitte, of course, had scoffed at the need, but was overruled by everyone, including Heyes and the Kid.

The group set off in the early sunshine in a ground-eating lope that the horses could sustain easily for some distance. Two miles on Brigitte reined in.

"What's the problem?" Heyes queried.

"No problem, Joshua, but we have a bet to settle remember?"

"I _never_ forget a bet. You want to do it here?"

"This is a good straight stretch of road for it. See that oak tree up there?" At Heyes' nod she said, "That's about half a mile away - - twice a quarter horse sprint - - can your horse go that distance?"

The outlaw snorted. "In her sleep!"

"Then I suggest Sean and Thaddeus ride on up there to judge the winner."

"Both of them?"

"Just to forestall any claims of bias."

"You mean _cheating_?" Thaddeus asked softly, but his eyes darkened ominously.

"Relax, Kid, four eyes are better than two if it's a close race." Heyes soothed his partner. "The Kid's had to defend us . . ."

"_You_."

"Right, me from accusations of cheating at poker so he gets sensitive," he explained.

"People have trouble believin' a body can be as good at cards as Heyes is, an' he _is_ that good," the Kid added.

"I didn't mean to offend you," Brigitte said by way of apology.

"None taken."

"What're the stakes?" Heyes wanted to know.

"We can settle that after the race, can't we?"

"Oh, well, that's a little irregular since normally a man likes to know what he's gonna win," Heyes hesitated just to tease her.

"Or lose?" she retorted.

"Yeah, if he thinks that's a possibility, which I don't, but we'll play it your way. Go on, Kid, take Sean up to that tree. When you're ready fire one shot, then Mary will give us the signal to start. Okay with you, Brigitte?"

"Perfect."

Curry and Sean raced up to the finish line stationing themselves one on each side of the road.

Hearing the first shot, Heyes settled into his saddle and with a wink said, "Good luck."

Before she could reply, Mary said, "Ready? Go!"

They both kicked their horses into a dead on run. Brigitte's horse took the early lead having the advantage in carrying a lighter weight, but Heyes had honed his racing skills running from a hundred or more posses where life was the prize and he knew how to win. For a moment he admired the skill of his opponent, hunched over her horse's neck, and ever so briefly considered letting her win, but to his mind that was just another form of cheating and against his nature. The thought flew out of his mind and he urged his mount to a surge of speed as the oak tree finish line drew close. They were neck and neck to his eyes as the oak tree flashed by and they gradually brought their horses down through their paces until they were walking to cool down.

"Great run, Joshua! It was so close I couldn't tell which of us won!" Brigitte exclaimed.

"Oh, I won," he replied confidently.

"Really?" She frowned at him. "I didn't realize you were arrogant."

"Brigitte," he tsked. "Don't mistake self-assurance for arrogance. They may look similar on the surface, but they are totally different."

She was forestalled from replying because they had returned to the finish line where Mary was also just arriving.

"Joshua won!" Sean shouted, delighted.

Heyes lifted one shoulder and gave Brigitte a "see?" kind of look as she turned to Curry for confirmation.

"It was real close, Brigitte, but it was Heyes by half a nose," the outlaw agreed.

"Very well, I accept the judges' decision. I can be a good loser," the redhead sighed. "What have you won, Joshua?"

"I haven't decided, but you can be sure it will be somethin' valuable."

"I think he must have heard of our buried treasure, Mary!"

"What buried treasure?" Sean demanded.

"The one Da got from the leprechauns before coming to America, Sean!"

"Oh, Brigitte, you're such a tease!" Mary scolded.

The older girl only laughed. "Come on, or it'll be dark before we get there at this rate!"

They continued on the road for a couple of hours until they came to a fork, one angling off to the west, the other continuing south.

"The road west will take you to the Doubletree Ranch owned by Rich Adams. It's the biggest spread in the valley, typically needs plenty of horses. We'll leave the road here to go east into the mountains." Brigitte told them. There was a faint overgrown track going in the direction she indicated.

"Who made this trail?" Curry asked.

"A logging company that used to work this valley. They've moved on and no one has used it much since. Another hour and we'll be in the pass."

The less traveled condition of this track forced them to travel somewhat slower, but they made good time and were soon in the foothills, the incline of the trail increasing.

The high granite walls of the Rocky Mountains closed around them as they trekked higher, the track winding occasionally as the elevation increased and the temperature dropped. Unmelted patches of snow could be seen in shaded pockets of rocks and the group was glad they hadn't removed their jackets.

Two hours after leaving the main road they reached the top of the pass and Brigitte reined in. "There it is, Joshua. What do you think?" She gestured and moved aside as Curry moved up beside his partner and the two outlaws gazed across the valley spreading out below them.

It was wide and green, surrounded on all sides by the majestic purple crags of the Rockies and a bright blue ribbon of water meandered through it from its source high in the snow pack, with some trees growing along its banks. Above, the sky was a deep clear blue, atleast for today unspotted by clouds. High up in the thermal drafts a pair of eagles could be seen circling.

Heyes stared entranced at the sight and unbeknownst to him a deep sigh escaped his lips. "This is _it_, Kid. _This_ is the valley in my dream!" He turned to his partner, his eyes glowing with excitement like a child at Christmas. "What do you think?"

"It's a mighty pretty sight, Heyes, and it looks like a practical and defensible proposition," Curry replied, ever the pragmatic one. "Is this the only entrance, Brigitte?"

"The only one anyone knows about, but me," she replied. At the Kid's curious look she went on, "There's a narrow, hidden entrance on the valley floor, mostly a wild animal track, but it works and it's sheltered so it doesn't get blocked by snow in the winter."

"And no one else knows about it, you say?"

"I doubt it. I don't think anyone has come up here but me since the loggers left. Why?"

"Security, Brigitte," Heyes replied instead of Curry. "The Kid's always got his eyes on escape routes and such."

"Somebody's got to, Heyes."

"You're right and you're the best at it. I couldn't have made my plans without being able to trust you with those details, Kid. That's one reason why we've always been a good team.'

The dark outlaw reached into his saddlebags and pulled out a pair of binoculars with which he scanned the valley. Suddenly he froze and then handed the glasses to Curry. "Hey, check it out, Kid, to the north! What do you see?"

Curry put the glasses to his eyes and looked in the direction Heyes was pointing. "Horses, Heyes! There must be hundreds of them!"

"Let's go down and get a closer look!"

Even more excited now, the trip down seemed to take forever, but soon they were on the valley floor and riding through the lush grasses and wildflowers. They rode as close to the herd as possible without spooking them then used the binoculars again.

Every imaginable color was represented in the herd, dominated by sorrels and bays, but there were blacks, whites, dapple-grays, pintos, roans, and even a palomino or two. Standing off to the side, his head up, ears pricked alertly, was the herd stallion. He was a grulla, his body a silvery slate, his head, legs, and tail black, and a black stripe ran down his back. He was huge, with a deep, muscular chest and long strong legs.

"What a herd!" Heyes exclaimed. "If there's a nag in the bunch I can't spot 'im! Check 'em out, Kid, especially the stallion."

"He's a beauty alright, Heyes, smart, too. He knows we're here." Curry commented and passed the binoculars to Brigitte.

"With that black face he looks like an outlaw's horse."

"Gonna go after 'im, Heyes?"

"Nah, an outlaw goin' after an outlaw? How would that look, Kid? We'll just thin his herd a little."

"I don't know about anyone else, but I'm starved!" The Kid changed the subject.

"When _aren't_ you starved, Kid?" his partner retorted.

"Well, I packed some sandwiches to tide us over until camp and supper is made," Mary said, "I spotted a nice shady spot a ways back that might make a good camp."

"Let's go set it up then, so Thaddeus can quit complainin' about his empty stomach!"

"_I'm_ hungry, too, Joshua!" Sean piped up in the Kid's defense.

"You're a growin' boy, Sean, you're _supposed_ to be hungry all the time," Heyes replied.

"Well, you call Thaddeus 'kid' so maybe he's still a growing boy, too," the youngster replied reasonably.

"I think he's got you there, Heyes," Curry grinned.

"Huh!" the other grunted.

They divided the chores to get the camp set up quickly. After each person unsaddled their horse, Heyes rubbed them down and staked them out to graze, meanwhile tying a rope between two trees for a picket line later that night. Curry took a shovel and dug a fire pit, sending Sean to gather stones from the river's edge to make a fire ring. Mary and Brigitte unpacked and gathered firewood.

Finally getting his hands on a sandwich, Curry gazed at the river while he munched, Sean at his side. "Y'know, I'll bet there's some trout in there just waitin' t'be our dinner. Y'wanna see if we can catch some?"

"You bet!" the boy exclaimed.

"All right! I'll cut a couple of poles for us from that tree there."

Heyes walked away from the camp and jumped up on a large boulder to survey the valley. He turned slowly, looking in all directions, and then sat down deep in thought.

Curry, stripping two thin branches of their leaves for the fishing poles, noticed and noticed also Brigitte watching his partner. "Heyes'll have the whole ranch set up planned out by suppertime, Brigitte. I can see his brain workin' from here. I wouldn't disturb him, though, he gets testy when he's plannin' an operation, all quiet and moody like. Then, when he's satisfied, it'll be like when a storm passes and the sky clears to let the sun shine out."

The work of the camp went on and when the smell of frying trout and baking biscuits filled the air, Heyes finally shook himself and jumped down from his boulder to rejoin the group.

"I think I've got it worked out!" he announced.

Curry tossed Brigitte a 'see, I told you so' look and passed his partner a plate. "Great, you tell us all about it after supper, Heyes," he told the other with the tolerance of long association.

His mind clear and settled on a plan of action, Heyes' appetite was the equal of the Kid's and he ate ravenously. "This is real good, Mary. You even make good coffee over a fire!"

"Thank you, Joshua."

"Heyes' coffee will rot your insides out," the Kid mourned. "After yours, Mary, it'll be hard to drink his again when we leave."

"Leave?" the three others around the campfire exclaimed and Heyes shot the tactless Curry a dark look.

"Only temporarily," he hastened to assure them. "This venture is gonna take money, a good deal of it, so we'll have to leave for awhile to raise the stake for it."

"How are you going to raise it and how long will you be gone?" Brigitte tried to make her tone neutral, but wasn't completely successful.

"Poker, of course. Fastest way I can think of and I'm pretty good at it, too." Heyes grinned. "I figger six months should do it. We'll wire our winnings back to you so you can get a house going up in the meantime, Brigitte. I'm putting you in charge of that project."

"What if you don't like it?"

"What? The house? Heck, a roof over my head is all I ask, what it looks like I'll leave up to you ladies. Is that all right with you, Thaddeus?"

"Sure, fine, I'm not picky, either."

Seeing the girl still wasn't sure, Heyes said, "Look, if you're worried, draw up a house plan that you think would be good and show it to us before we leave. How's that?"

"All right."

They sat quietly for a few minutes and then Heyes said to Sean, "How 'bout bringin' in the horses and tyin' them to the picket line?"

"Okay!" the boy agreed, eager to be helpful.

"Make sure they're tied secure, we don't wanna lose any to that wild herd!"

"I will!"

"There's a big full moon tonight, Brigitte, would you like to take a walk with me?"

"All right."

They rose and the outlaw offered the girl his arm. As they strolled out of the firelight, the Kid turned to Mary and asked, "Do you think she'll have him?"

The dark-haired girl smiled softly and replied, "She won't have anyone else."

"How about you, Mary?"

"I think Joshua will have his hands full with just Brigitte!" She tried to keep a straight face, but couldn't stop the bubbling laughter at Curry's shocked look.

He shook his head ruefully. "You know what I meant, Mary. Will you have _me_?"

"Yes, I knew what you meant, but I couldn't resist teasing you; you were looking so serious!"

"_And_?"

Becoming serious, Mary cupped the Kid's face gently in her hands and whispered, "Of course I'll have you!" Then she leaned forward and kissed him softly.

Ecstatic, he folded her into his arms and kissed her with a passion that burned hotter than the fire. "I can't believe it," he sighed when he released her.

"Why not?" she asked leaning her head against his shoulder.

"A nice girl like you and a gunslingin' outlaw like me, that's why not."

"You're much more than that, Thaddeus."

"You've never been afraid of me, like Brigitte was at first. Why not?"

"It's not that I don't know your reputation, I do, and I suppose you've earned it, but that's not the _real_ you; I can feel the real you underneath, the gentle, loving you that your life hasn't allowed you to show. That's the Thaddeus I know and love."

Hardly able to believe his good luck, Kid Curry decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth, tilted Mary's chin up and thoroughly kissed her again.

"It's beautiful here," Brigitte sighed.

"It is," Heyes agreed. He led her to the boulder where he had spent so much time that afternoon and leaned his back against it. "I've decided what my prize for winning the race should be."

"What?"

Instead of replying he pulled her against him and claimed her lips with his. The kiss went on until she was breathless when he released her lips, but still held her. "That's the valuable prize you were talking about?" she asked incredulously.

"No, that's just a down payment," he replied huskily.

"What do you mean?"

"Brigitte, you're the most amazing woman I've ever met and holding you in my arms, even with your six-shooter banging against my leg, is such a perfect fit. Being with you makes me believe in the future, and I can't imagine building this ranch without you by my side. Will you wait for me, Brigitte, and be only mine when I come back?"

Looking deeply into his fathomless dark eyes, she replied, "I gave my heart to you when I wasn't even sure you would live, and, had you died, you would have taken it with you to the grave for I could never have loved another. I have waited for you all my life, Hannibal Heyes, I think I can wait a few more months!"

"You realize I can't offer you security. There's no guarantee the Kid an' I'll get our amnesty."

"It makes no never mind to me, boyo, if ye be outlaw, or rancher," she said in the heavy Irish lilt that she could turn on and off at will. "It's your wife I'll be. Thaddeus described you as the wind and I'll not tie the wind down as long as you blow back to me!"

"Always, Brigitte, always!" His heart swelling so full he thought it would burst, he crushed her to him again and rained kisses on her cheeks, eyes, and down her throat before claiming her lips once again for his own.

Seated once again around the campfire, Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry exchanged a look that contained a world of meaning across the flames. They both smiled smiles that for the first time in many years contained peace and a hope for the future that they both now knew truly existed.

The End?

_The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be the beginning. – -Ivy Baker Priest _

93


End file.
